


The Nearest Star

by powderblew



Category: Naruto
Genre: ANBU in the making, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Haruno Sakura, Basically, F/M, Gen, Haruno Sakura for Hokage 2K20, Haruno Sakura-centric, Headspace, Healing, Lime, Namikaze Minato Lives, Non-Graphic Violence, Political Alliances, Sakura rescues herself because she is thaT BITCH, Slow Burn, Some Humor, Strong Haruno Sakura, Subspace, Terrorist Organizations can't just seem to dIE, Unfinished Business, bickering kage, chojuro where art thou chojuro, daimyo and their plots, dubcon but not really, explanations are demanded, how many levels of the mind are there?, i think, it's coronation time, it's literally impossible for me to write a fic without romance, it's yang, kakashi isn't as smart as he thinks, lots and lots of subplots, minato is in loveee, minato is reaching his breaking point, more limes because yes, naruto is growing up, or - Freeform, safe spaces are good for the soul, sakura gets the recognition that she DESERVES, seduction missions as a plot device because whY not, shikamaru is tired of people, smut okay i am weak, someone give chojuro a vacation, someone give shikamaru a bed, space-time ninjutsu gone wrong, there's violence but not heavy, unedited because we live and die like men, we got 8 subplots in this bitch, what is the opposite of yin, world building, yes we've reached this part of the fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:42:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 158,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23366386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/powderblew/pseuds/powderblew
Summary: The quest for strength comes from the spirit or in this case, the soul.Temporary-Hiatus.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura & Hatake Kakashi, Haruno Sakura & Namikaze Minato, Haruno Sakura & Nara Shikamaru, Haruno Sakura/C (one-sided), Haruno Sakura/Namikaze Minato
Comments: 957
Kudos: 1545
Collections: Fics I loved, Naruto Wonderland, Strong BAMF Sakura, naruto favs





	1. constellations

The dirt is wet beneath her feet, she can tell by the way it splatters on her calves and the way it drips down her knees. She’s not sure if she’s exhausted or if she’s just looking for a way out. Whirlpool country is different terrain altogether, it’s rocky with the remains of buildings and metal jaggedly pointing upwards. It’s not hot because it lays on the same latitude of the Leaf village, though, it’s humid.

“Sakura-chan,” Naruto’s voice crackles with a high-pitch against her earphones, she winces because _goddamn_ it’s Naruto, and her fingers clumsily dial the knob down.

There’s static and a crackle.

“Who gave the _dobe_ an amp?” Sasuke sounds annoyed.

“Dickless, please refrain from screaming,” Sai replies, a crackle of static follows, “We are under discretion, our objective must remain the utmost focus, you’re feminine screeching is highly inappropriate.”

Deciding to intervene _before_ Naruto begins to yell expletives and speak in such a Neanderthal, repulsive matter – her ear can’t really take in any more noise – she sighs, “What is it Naruto?”

Crackle.

“Where are you?” Static. “We’re regrouping at the big metal pointy stick stature,” he pauses, “Thing.”

She rolls her eyes and jumps over a particularly wobbly section of what looked like a shrine. It’s a brick color, shale-like in texture, she could tell it used to pump chakra by the fibers of the threading. “I’m almost there,” she pauses, “I found the scroll by the way.”

Sasuke sounds confused, “What? Where?”

“A shrine by the water,” Sakura frowns, “It was hanging on a piece of seaweed, it was the only place that wasn’t destroyed. Didn’t you guys scout the perimeter?”

It’s silent for an entire minute.

“We didn’t find any shrines,” Sai answers her.

Sakura blinks slowly, even in the abandoned country, where her teammates could _not_ see a perfectly good shrine by the ocean, in the midst of the ruins—that _didn’t_ make sense. There are no inhabitants of this ghost land, but it’s not entirely improbable that _one_ building survived the destruction. Unless it’s a genjutsu.

“Sasuke, do you see any chakra signatures? Anything at all?” Sakura asks quickly and she speeds up her pace, but then deliberately comes to a stop. She turns back and sends a pulse of chakra through the earth, just enough to touch the shrine. Even from far away, she sees the tip of the shrine transform back into rubble.

It makes her stomach tighten.

“No,” He replies, “Did you send a chakra wave?”

“It was a genjutsu,” She says, she doesn’t like how this feels—it feels like it’s a trap.

“How far are you?” Sai asks.

“Five thousand yards.”

“We’ll meet you halfway,” Naruto promises.

“Remind me,” She starts, her pace picking up, “What does the scroll look like?”

“Blue, ruby embedded and black cotton thread on rice paper,” Sai drones on, it sounds like he’s reading the mission scroll, there is that sound of crinkling paper before he zips back his pack.

Sakura glances at her scroll and yelps. There are _sapphires_ on this scroll, not rubies, so which scroll did she _take_? Trepidation fills her veins, because she was so _sure_ that she picked the right scroll – why should there be more than one scroll? The country is abandoned! – underneath the archives of the shrine. Her voice feels like a swing, “Guys—I don’t think this is the scroll,” her voice cuts off into a squeak because there is water slamming through the air and she has dug her elbows into the ground to dodge the swipe, “It’s an ambush!”

How convenient.

Water jutsus in the Land of Whirlpool is just unfair. It’s an island for heaven’s sake! Sakura leaps into the trees to get a better vantage point of her enemy and much to her dismay, the jutsu comes from the ocean. It’s a water dragon, but it’s thinner and faster, “Earth Style: _Partition!_ ”

Unfortunately, Sakura only knows a handful of elemental jutsus. The water dragon barely hits the earth wall, splatters of water coat a few pink strands and the collar of her top. The earth disintegrates and she jumps back. The shinobi – two of them – they have masks, white as bone, but they are faceless and expressionless. At least ANBU has figures or animals, this shinobi lack any traits—it’s depersonalized, and it’s really, _really_ creepy. There are three of them, one with an ax and the other two are weapon-less.

Sakura tries to reason with herself. What could the scroll possibly entail – if that is, they want her scroll, the wrong scroll – or is it the scroll the mission required? She isn’t sure which one they are looking for and she isn’t going to stick around to find out. She reaches for her kunai from her back pouch, threads them with explosive tags and scatters the metal. Then she runs, hopefully, she’ll pick up Naruto or Sasuke or Sai’s chakra signature.

The tags begin to detonate.

She hates running, it’s the coward’s way out and it doesn’t make her feel any better about herself, but she _needs_ someone to watch her back.

“Sakura-chan!” Naruto’s voice is godsent, he stops in front of her and she hears the sounds of her tags exploding, one by one.

“Naruto,” She sounds tired, “Where are the rest?”

“Finishing the perimeter, we found two more nin on the outskirts, and the other three Sasuke handled.”

Two plus three, plus another two equals seven.

Sakura’s eyes widen, _seven_ nin? Whoever sent those nin, _really_ wants the scroll, that, or they want to make _sure_ they receive the scroll. Whatever’s going on, it doesn’t sound good. She presses her lips together before she explains quickly, “We need to lead them inland. They use high-ranking elemental ninjutsu, if they are too close to the water they are going to drown us.”

They need to cut their resources off at the source.

It takes some of Naruto’s goading and more explosive tags to have them just where they need them. Naruto takes the one with the ax, unsurprisingly, Sakura takes the other one and tries to flatten them with her strength. He’s slimy, she grimaces, that much she’ll give him, he uses chakra with his katana, which isn’t abnormal, but it’s different. It’s elemental chakra he’s using, but he’s not using elemental ninjutsu which is _strange,_ because elemental chakra is required for elemental _ninjutsu._

It does not make sense.

He can apparently use lightning ninjutsu, he draws the lightning, bright like silver and uses the water trail from his previous jutsu as a conductor, but Sakura sees it too quickly and she destroys the earth with one chakra-infused blow. She uses his sudden blindness to fling a tree at him and then transforms a clone into a kunai. Using the wind like a whip, she flings her kunai, he dodges it obviously, but it transforms back into a clone and she damages his leg with her foot.

He _screams._

His voice rings in her ears, he inhales hard and uncaring, but he’s too pissed to think of the consequences. Anger runs thick in his veins, he pulls out his katana and rakes the earth. Sakura is too confused to realize what he’s doing, the ground disappears from her feet and she’s flying through the air.

When Sakura looks up, she sees the scroll in front of her, unraveled and she winces. She sees the nin coming, limping, broken and he snarls at her through his bone mask and she _hears_ it. She’s healing herself unconsciously, that much she’s aware of, but healing takes time so Sakura makes a desperate grab for the scroll – even if it’s not her mission objective, she would be _damned_ to give this bastard his glory – her fingers wet with her own blood, grabs the blue, sapphire embedded, black cotton, rice paper scroll and now, it’s a little fuzzy.

And then she can’t see.

It takes her teammates ten minutes to find her. They found the scroll apparently, it was hidden in the handle of that big ax, but here, they stand in the forest not fully understanding the situation, because to the rest of the team, Sakura looks completely fine. She has some dried blood on her fingers, but she lays on the ground as if she’s stuck to the earth itself and it’s really, _really_ weird. Her eyes are blank, her pupil shrinks to the point where it looks like a small ink dot, and her eyes are so _green._

The unraveled scroll in front of her is blank and the other nin—masked nin or whatever the hell he was, he’s disintegrated into what looks like _sand._ And it’s really, _really_ weird.

“Sakura-chan?” Naruto’s hesitant when he calls her, crouching low his hand touches her upper back carefully, “Are you okay?”

“Naruto?” Her voice sounds faint, even to his ears.

Naruto glances up to Sasuke and Sai who looks more confused than worried or as close to concerned as they can look. He pats her on the back, “Yeah?”

“I can’t see.”

He blinks, “What? Your eyes are wide open.”

She tries again, “Naruto,” she pauses to emphasize her hysteria, “I can’t _see._ ”

“Oh,” He breathes shakily, his other two teammates stiffen as the weight of her words hits them, “Oh.”

Then it’s a race back to Konoha.

Sakura is blind for twenty-four hours, which to her sounds reasonable, but what is irritatingly confusing is that she doesn’t know _how_ or _why_ she went from vision to no vision, to vision again—medically, it’s impossible, because there was no damage to her head – at least she doesn’t think so – or her eyes.

But then Tsunade explains that scroll that had unraveled during the mission contained chakra.

Now, _that,_ that makes sense.

Rapid chakra absorption can cause sudden blindness, the chakra pathways are consumed with a high volume of energy and that energy is raw, meaning that it hasn’t been converted into chakra that’s usable. It’s like being shocked. Sensors, certain bloodlines and other types of nin that can use chakra just by touching another person are different, their DNA is programmed with an enzyme that immediately breaks down the energy into useable chakra.

People like Sakura, who comes from a civilian-based family, with no bloodline limit or anything remotely abnormal— are not born with that enzyme. She’s someone who is extremely sensitive to chakra, to have her overloaded with raw, natural energy caused her body to go into shock, thus forcing her body to compromise her optical nerves for the time being.

Tsunade does not have that much information to give her, instead, she tells her to rest a little more while she goes to the archives and tries to find something.

But Sakura is tired, so she sleeps some more.

The next morning, she feels like her shoulders are heavy, like the weight of the world rests on her fine shoulder bones and she’s just miserable. She feels almost like she’s hardwired on caffeine, her body feels jittery, like she has to train or do something remotely active. Her brain isn’t working as fast as her body, so when she leaps out of the bed, she leaps to high and suddenly she’s on the ceiling.

“Um, Sakura-chan,” Naruto pops in from the hospital door, he looks at her strangely, “Why are you on the ceiling?”

“Um,” She pauses not sure how to answer him, she hops back down, slowly almost as if she’s testing her own reflexes, “I don’t know. I feel like I have to train or something. I think I slept too much.”

“You have too much energy?” Sai asks from the window, he stares at her, “How convenient.”

“What Sai means is,” The blonde rolls his eyes, “Baa-chan just discharged you from the hospital. You have to be careful.”

Sakura grumbles and warns him, “I’m the med-nin, Naruto.”

“Like that means anything,” Sasuke snorts, his body lays against the doorframe, “You don’t listen to your own advice.”

“Shut up, Sasuke,” She frowns and then crosses her arms over her chest, “I clearly remember someone snapping their femur two weeks ago and ran out of the hospital before receiving his pain meds.”

Naruto snickers, “You’re even worse than sensei, bastard.”

Sasuke scowls.

“Besides,” Sakura scratches her shoulder, “It was just chakra overflow. Ironic how it’s not exhaustion.”

It’s quiet for a few moments and Naruto who is uncomfortable with the silence, asks no one in particular, “So, ramen then?”

* * *

Sakura ditches the ramen for tempura. Her walk back home, with her three bickering teammates behind her, is surprisingly uneventful, she was sure that Ino would ambush her, but she shrugs that thought off when Naruto whines, “Sakura-chan, we totally should’ve got ramen. They have a special on pork ramen.”

“Too much salt will give you hypertension,”

“I would willingly die if I don’t eat ramen again,”

“Really?” Sasuke makes a sound of interest.

She rolls her eyes and she hears a faint sound, something that sounds like a chuckle.

Her apartment complex is surprisingly modern because it’s the shinobi part of the village, clans tend to stick with traditional housing and furniture. Modern housing is usually reserved in the civilian part of the village, where things were to more of their convenience whereas clans and ninja families tend to keep things a little less complicated.

“Alright, now go away,” Sakura tells them as she opens the door of her apartment, her landlord passes the halls and smiles at her before disappearing down the stairs.

“But Sakura-chan—”

“Away,” She’s firm, but she has to snicker when Sai looks at her with what looked like a trying pout, she has to remember, he’s _trying_ , but it’s really, _really_ —

“You look like a blowfish, Sai.”

Even Sasuke snorts.

“Away. Now,” Sakura repeats, slipping off her boots, and then she sighs forcefully with exasperation, “Ino will be here in maybe an hour to ambush me, I would like to gain some sanity before she arrives,” she pushes them out of her doorframe, “Go. I’ve had enough of you morons for one day.”

All she wants is some peace and _quiet._

There’s a faint thought of storing her excess chakra into her Yin seal, but it disappears the moment Sai says something rather colorful.

“We’ll come back with dinner, Sakura-chan!” Naruto’s voice is muffled, but she can’t help but smile. They mean well and she loves them, but sometimes they’re just too _much_.

Tossing her pack on her couch, she walks into her bedroom and rummages her draws for something comfortable to wear. As much as she likes wearing her standard shinobi outfit, she really isn’t in the mood to shave her legs. Pulling out a big sweater that nearly swallows her whole, she turns to her full-length mirror and unzips her red shirt. Her bindings are the only thing that’s left that is covering her chest, her skirt and tights still on her bottom. When she turns her vision back to the mirror, there’s a familiar man staring right back at her.

She blinks.

The blonde does not move, but he blinks too.

Sakura is still staring at the mirror and she’s not sure what’s happening, because she’s pretty sure that blonde is dead, but he’s still staring at her and she turns around slowly. There’s nothing there—she looks like she’s staring into blank space, so she turns back and he’s still _there._

Sakura is still staring because she’s half-fucking _naked_ and there is a man in her _mirror._

She thinks she’s taking this surprisingly well. Sakura is a medic, her first intuition is to think and then act. Identify the problem, understand the symptoms and then act, because stranger things have _happened._

The man in the mirror looks like he’s behind her, his reflection like he’s standing a few feet from her bareback and he looks like he’s in her _room_ , but when she turns he’s not there and it’s just—?

“Um,” Sakura breathes, if she moves to the left, she wonders if he’ll disappear because her back will cover his right side of his shoulder and if it doesn’t cover his shoulder—then he’s in her mirror, but the question is, what if it _does_ cover?

She moves and his shoulder is concealed.

She feels like she’s been stabbed— _again._

“Holy shit,” Sakura swears so roughly that the man in the mirror flinches.

 _Minato Namikaze_ is in her _room._

The infamous _Yellow Flash_ , Naruto’s father, the Fourth Hokage—the very _dead_ Fourth Hokage is in her _bedroom._

Sakura has effectively identified the problem, but there is no solution, so she believes, hysterically, that she is indeed, allowed to freak out.


	2. jupiter

There are three things that keeps Sakura’s rapidly firing neurons occupied, but the number one thing on her list is that she is completely, wholly, entirely, _one hundred percent_ certain that Minato Namikaze is staring at her through her mirror, and because, she is so _sure_ that it is in fact, Minato Namikaze _staring at her_ through her mirror—she turns to face her bed and tries to deny it.

“Okay,” Sakura nods to herself, not wanting to turn back to look at her mirror, “Okay. I’m going insane. It’s the only explanation,” she attempts to be plausible, “Yes, he is in my mirror because I hit my head _really hard_ on our last mission.”

She can’t remember if she actually _did_ hit her head.

Sakura turns back to look at her mirror and the Fourth stares right back at her, she’s not sure if he’s amused or if he’s in shock.

She tries to think and breathes, “What the _hell_?”

Sakura pokes her mirror and she’s thankful when she hits the cold glass instead of warm skin, or would it be cold skin, since he’s kind of…dead. She tries to rationalize, “Okay, okay—I’m _fine._ I’m—”

She loses her cool and throws a fist at her mirror.

The image of him and she in her bedroom disappears, glass shards scattering over the floor, cutting her skin and she hisses at the blood. At least she’s not _looking_ at him. That has to count for something. Sighing at her hissy fit, she cleans up the glass and walks into the bathroom determined to clean her cut—band-aids would have to do, for now, she needs something to hold her down to reality.

Sakura bandages the three cuts on her ankle and one near her left toe. She looks back up, her face staring at the mirror of her sink and she sees him, _again._

“ _What—?_ ”

“Wait!” He _speaks,_ “Wait, don’t break the mirror!” Minato’s voice strains with tension, he raises his hands into a defensive position. 

Sakura blinks slowly, her brain processes the scene slowly and she utters with disbelief lacing her tone, “I can _hear_ you.”

Minato looks visibly relieved, his shoulders hunch over the mirror and he smiles sheepishly, “Yes. I guess you can.”

She stares at the mirror and then, uncharacteristically, she pleads with him, “ _Please_ tell me you’re real and that I’m not going crazy.”

He looks stunned at her desperation because even _he_ cannot comprehend—

“But if you aren’t real and this is just my mind screwing with me, how can I tell if _I’m_ crazy?” Sakura speaks to herself, as if Minato’s not even _there,_ and she speaks with a certain high pedigree of medical jargon that his mind spinning.

“Wait—wait,” He tries to calm her down, “The scroll. It’s the _scroll_.”

The relief that floods Sakura’s body is bone-heavy, it weighs her down like buckets of water and Minato can feel the pull of tension. She sighs, “Oh thank God. This isn’t a genjutsu, so you might _actually_ be real.”

“How do you know this isn’t a genjutsu?” Minato asks despite himself, he needs her to believe him, but he’s also just really curious.

“There isn’t any disruption or haziness in my chakra.”

“You don’t need to feel anything to be under a genjutsu.”

Sakura stares at him with a certain light and straightens her shoulders, “I’m chakra _sensitive._ ”

And maybe that’s all the answer he needs.

“I can prove that I’m real,” Minato points out quickly, he wants to give her as much confirmation as possible, so she doesn’t break the mirror—the only way for her to see him apparently.

Sakura looks at him warily, her hands press against her bathroom vanity, and then tightens against the dip. “How?”

There’s a phantom sensation, like fingers tracing her knuckles, the shivery sensation is cold, but then it becomes heavier like something is loosely grasping her wrist. Two heartbeats pass and then she feels his hand _squeeze._

Green eyes widen and she flinches back, “You are _real_.”

Sakura’s brain can’t exactly wrap around the concept that the _dead_ Fourth Hokage is speaking to her in her bathroom, but after the entire war, it’s crazy enough to be _plausible._ Rummaging in her cabinet, she finds a makeup compact – it didn’t a genius to put two and two together to come up with four – and leaves her bathroom.

She tugs on her sweater over her head – God she was in her _bindings_ talking to the Fourth! Her etiquette was worse than _Naruto’s_ – and she tries to make herself small when she shoves off her skirt and tights, but she keeps her bindings on because, _because_.

Sakura takes a seat on her bed and opens up her compact mirror.

Minato blinks when the dim light of her bedroom lamp flickers through the room, he turns to face her and she’s very aware of how young he is, he remarks with surprise, “You’re very…intuitive, aren’t you?”

Sakura grimaces obviously not knowing how to respond to such a comment, she stacks her pillows on top of each other and places the mirror on the top. She would like to have a face-to-face conversation with the supposed dead Fourth Hokage and holding him in her hands is just not appropriate. Her way of speaking – thanks to her mentor – is rather blunt, so she tries to soften her blow with a look of confusion, “What’s going on, Hokage-sama?”

“The scroll you opened was from Whirlpool, correct?”

She nods in confirmation.

Minato sighs, he’s wearing the standard Jounin vest and a dark blue sleeve underneath that, but other than that, he looks relatively casual, “It was a failsafe I had left in case the Nine-Tails was released again. Naruto’s seal can only be replaced once.”

Sakura’s eyes widen, “But, Naruto can unseal and seal Kurama.”

His eyebrows raise at that, but he looks at her and something _clicks_ , “You are…Sakura, right? I remember seeing you during the war.”

She nods again surprised that he could place her during that time, she corrects him, “Sakura Haruno. Naruto’s teammate.”

Minato smiles, he’s thankful that he landed in capable hands. He explains, “This scroll was created in case Naruto couldn’t control the Kyuubi. The scroll was passed down from the Third and then to Tsunade-sama. I couldn’t take any chances, even if I were dead. My chakra was infused into the scroll, a little less than half of the Yin chakra, once the seal was activated – by blood – the chakra would attach to the body and form a clockwise seal. The seal would then push the demonic chakra into his prison and seal away the Kyuubi.”

“But,” Sakura starts, she absorbs the information, “I’m a counter-clockwise type, so my chakra would not be mix with yours so easily,” She frowns and then explains, “The scroll was opened by accident. Our mission was to obtain a different scroll in Whirlpool, it was only by coincidence that I picked up this scroll instead. If the seal was supposed to suppress demonic chakra, then what did the seal do to me?”

Minato took a long while to answer, “My guess is that you overloaded your system with chakra. You’ve been trying to store the extra chakra in your Yin seal, haven’t you.”

It’s a statement, not a question.

“Yes,” She confirms his conclusion, “I’ve been doing it since I left the hospital,” She grimaces again, “But your chakra is raw, I have to convert it and it takes longer for my body to heal when it comes to foreign substances. I don’t come from a shinobi family or clan or have any sort of bloodline, my chakra system was overwhelmed. It should be almost finished I think.”

Minato stares at her, “It is.”

She doesn’t understand, but then he swipes the corners of his eyes and then, with hesitation, she reaches up to touch her eyelids, her fingers swipe to the end corners of her eyes – the part just where eyeliner would end – she feels the slight abrasion of skin. She blinks and then she grabs her contact and shifts the mirror over the light.

Minato is startled when her face suddenly appears in front of him and he’s very aware of how _green_ her eyes are.

There are two triangles, one each side and they are sideways, with the pointy side pointing her irises and the base facing her ears. They are very tiny triangles, half the size of a grain of rice, but what is truly strange is that they are the same color as Minato’s eyes.

“I suppose it could be worse,” Sakura grumbles at her new appearance, she’s vain and she knows it, “I could look like Jiraiya-sama.”

Minato knows better than to laugh, but still, he does manage to breathe a chuckle.

“Hokage-sama,” She addresses him curiously, her fingers place the compact back onto her pillow stack, “How is it that you are in the mirror?”

“I’m actually not in the mirror.”

Sakura stares at him.

“You can only see my reflection from the mirror,” Minato explains, he scratches the back of his neck in a sheepish manner, “I’m actually sitting right next to you.”

Sakura snaps her neck to the left and ignores the sting of her tendons. There’s no one next to her. She swipes her hand wondering if she could feel something, rather than empty space, but the air hums unperturbed.

“For some reason, you can only see me in the mirror,” He continues, spider-silk tickles her fingers, “I haven’t fully figured out how to make myself visible, I think because our chakras haven’t fused properly we’re all out of sync.”

Sakura ponders on that, her finger touches her chin and then she responds, “That makes sense. Chakra is a life force, after all, if there’s some sort of imbalance or blockage, obviously some parts of the jutsu or seal or whatever the hell this is, won’t work. Our chakras won’t merge properly because of our affinity types.”

Minato looks at her with surprise, “That’s a plausible statement.”

Sakura tries not to bristle, she’s not an _idiot,_ she flicks her hair to her shoulders and huffs dryly, “Other than my chakra being counter-clockwise, mixing would be harder, but merging would be even more difficult.”

The Fourth Hokage smiles nervously, he’s not sure how to approach the irritated female and then he poses his question, intent on using it as a diversion towards her ire, “What is your affinity?”

“Water and earth,” She answers and then grimaces, “I don’t really use elemental ninjutsu, so it’s probably not all that important.”

“I have fire, wind and lightning affinities,” Minato reveals and inwardly groans. This would be harder than he thought, their chakras aren’t compatible, the only thing that’s binding them together is their Yin chakra, but something she said struck a chord with him, “You don’t use elemental ninjutsu?”

“No,” Sakura replies swiftly and then she asks, because if his chakra could lock a prison within her, then perhaps—she speaks aloud, “Is it possible that the seal that you were going to use for Kurama – because there’s no demon in me obviously – I mean,” It’s hard enough trying to explain this, “Is it possible because I’m not a _vessel_ —” Sakura stops abruptly and then she blinks.

_Oh shit._

Inner Sakura disappeared as soon as she hit fifteen, but would that be considered a vessel? She’s more of a disassociative personality, she’s harmless – she bites the inside of her cheek – at least she _thinks_ she’s harmless, but Inner Sakura always had a mind of her own and her own feelings. But suppose Inner Sakura is still living inside her, just dormant and if the Fourth sealed her…wouldn’t she become _his_ vessel? Or something similar to that? Is that why he didn’t disappear? Like he’s supposed to?

“—kura. Sakura!” Minato’s phantom hands trail up her arms and locks onto her shoulder bones. He doesn’t shake her how Naruto would shake her or how Kakashi would, his fingers press deep into the bone something akin to acupuncture and it’s a light jostle he gives, almost as if he’s holding a piece of glass.

“Huh?” She blinks hazy green eyes and then shakes her head. She wants to slap herself and remind her brain that she has to be _logical,_ she continues as if she just didn’t have an extensional crisis, “Right—I was talking about the seal, because I don’t possess another being in me,” she pauses thinking to Inner, “Is it possible that the seal, sealed you to me?”

Minato watches her suspiciously, he saw her form tense when she said the word _vessel,_ but he could not sense anything abnormal from her, so either she’s lying or she is truly uncomfortable with being a vessel or it’s something different altogether. He considers her question with a pensive face, “It’s conceivable, because you’re not a vessel, the seal might reverse and suck me into you.”

Sakura swallows at the innuendo in his words, she pushes back her embarrassment because she is _twenty-one_ and she’s been talking to Ino a _little_ too much lately, she points out, “We aren’t exactly fused properly since you’re…attached to me,” she inhales, “My chakra is unstable and I have to find a way to unseal you because chakra is all that I _have_.”

Sakura feels vulnerable and that scares her more than anything.

.

.

.

“Sakura-chan!” Naruto’s voice is like a beacon against her front door and she mumbles incoherently into her pillows. All she wants to do is _sleep,_ it’s her day _off_ and _why?_

“Has he always been this…eccentric?” Minato asks more with amusement than exasperation.

Sakura left her compact mirror open, just in case. He sat on her nightstand next to her clock and she twists in the sheets, trying to ignore the pounding of the door, she curses darkly, “I swear I’m going to _kill_ him.”

The door unlocks and suddenly the sheets of her bed have left her body. She shivers at the cool wind and turns over to glare at the blonde. He has the _nerve_ to look sheepish, and then she scowls, “You have three seconds to explain yourself or you are going through the _wall._ ”

“We have training!” Naruto reminds her childishly, “I’m sorry I forgot about dinner last night, but Kakashi-sensei is back, he said to meet us at the bridge.”

“When is Kakashi-sensei _ever_ on time?” She growls and sits up.

Naruto has to admit, she does have a point and then he laughs sheepishly, “We can get breakfast! Ramen—”

“I am _not_ eating ramen for breakfast.”

He pouts, “Sai said that there’s a teashop near the hospital,” He tries to persuade her and she has to admit, grudgingly, that it’s working, and then he says brightly, “They have dango.”

Sakura curses her softness for Naruto, she grunts, “Fine. Get out, so I can change.”

“Kakashi is your teacher?” Minato asks jovially and laughs at the irony.

Sakura snaps her head to look at him in disbelief. Is _this_ how he’s going to tell Naruto—

“—your makeup-thing open? That’s so weird,” Naruto frowns and lifts up the mirror, “Sakura-chan, you’re pretty enough. You know you don’t need makeup.”

Sakura stares at him dubiously and then she glances at Minato in the mirror. She asks slowly, “What are you looking at in the mirror?”

Naruto frowns at the strange questions, “What are you talking about? I’m looking at myself and this weird powder thing.”

Sakura takes back her mirror and she looks at Minato with shock.

_Naruto can’t see Minato._

If Naruto, can’t see his father or hear him, despite having a piece of his chakra still in him, then that means, only _she_ can see Minato.

.

.

.

Sakura chews her dango stick with a thoughtful look on her face, she’s debating whether or not to tell her team about Minato’s abrupt appearance, as if her life isn’t complicated enough. Is it worth the scrutiny? She doesn’t know how—how different Naruto would treat her, but furthermore, she’d be locked down in T&I as a threat or a mentally unstable patient, or perhaps diagnosed with PTSD, she didn’t exactly have _proof_ that Minato is, well, bound to her.

She glances at her tea with a sudden darkness, Minato stares at her with the same thoughtful expression on her face. When Naruto went to find Sasuke, Sai left to pay for the rest of breakfast and explains that he has to run an errand for the Hokage—ANBU stuff apparently.

“I can’t drink my tea knowing you’re in it,” Sakura says to her teacup.

Minato frowns and disappears.

Sakura blinks in disbelief, “ _What_ —?”

“Over here,” Minato’s face appears in the syrup of her empty dango sticks.

“How did you—” Sakura shakes her head, suddenly exasperated, “You know, I don’t _want_ to know.”

“I believe anything with a reflection should allow me to be visible,” He finishes, “To you.”

“Convenient,” She mumbles and sips her cold tea and then she speaks her thoughts aloud, “You do know I’m not going to tell anyone about you, right?”

Minato nods, blue eyes tired, “Yes.”

She raises a brow, “You’re not going to try and persuade me?”

He smiles and shakes his head, “No. You understand the consequences of this situation and discretion should be key if someone should learn about your _involvement_ with one of the Hokages—”

Sakura’s not sure if the Hokage’s being suggestive on purpose, but if he is, then—then. Then she doesn’t know what to do.

“—lead to you being a target, a much higher value target considering that there were rouge ninja after my scroll in Whirlpool. I’m not sure how much T&I has changed since I was last here but considering what has happened within the past decade, I can assume it’s gotten much harsher,” His voice is kind, but his eyes has a certain intensity that Naruto could never have, “I would not want to subject you to that, Sakura.”

Sakura isn’t sure how to feel about him – the Fourth Hokage – he’s nice, genuine, kind and a lot more determined than most of the shinobi she’s used to. She could see where Naruto’s determination comes from, but it’s hard to remain level-headed in a situation like this, hell, she’s having a hard time separating herself from running and screaming – which would prove more of a movie-like scenario – she hates that she can’t feel like herself, because he’s around and just _watching_ her. It’s like she has to be on her guard all the time and frankly, it’s only been a day, and she’s already exhausted.

“Hokage-sama,” She begins wanting to try and understand something a little more, “I don’t—”

“Minato,” He interrupts her with a warm voice.

She blinks and then stares at her plate, “Excuse me?”

“My name is Minato Namikaze.”

Sakura still doesn’t understand and she frowns, “Yes, I know what your name is.”

He still looks at her with that ocean-blood intensity, he punctuates his sentence as if he’s speaking to a child, “ _Use_ it.”

_Oh._

“Don’t you think that’s inappropriate?” Sakura exclaims with wide eyes, she’s not sure what exactly is going through his mind and she doesn’t _want_ to know, but she still tells him in a whisper, “You’re the _Fourth Hokage_ , shouldn’t I address you as such—”

_Not to mention Naruto’s father._

“But I’m not the Hokage anymore, am I?” Minato interjects not unkindly, his tilts his head in a very Kakashi-like gesture, “I lost that title when I died. Please, I would prefer some shred of normalcy.”

Sakura almost glares at him.

 _He_ wants normalcy? What about _her?_ What about the girl who has legends for teammates, who has a Hokage for a sensei, who has dealt with more abandonment than she has ever asked for? When will _she_ catch a break?

“Minato-sama—”

“ _Sakura_ ,” He breathes with frustration, her name is all emphasis and heat, like something straight of the fire, the Fourth Hokage was never known to hold a temper, but given the situation, he relays her name as if she’s his salvation.

“Minato,” She can’t help but roll her eyes, a weight drops into her stomach, it coils like a living thing and it makes her slightly uncomfortable, but exhilarated when she speaks to him, and she actually forgets what she’s supposed to tell him, “We are leaving.”

Because if she stays any longer, she’s sure that she would’ve provoked an argument, and arguing with Minato Namikaze is a little more than daunting.

Even if he is dead.

The walk to _the bridge_ – she says it like that because it’s just a staple to her. Iconic, if Naruto is to comment on it, but legendary to everyone else. It’s kind of ridiculous – it’s a ten-minute walk, thankfully there are no reflective surfaces for Minato to pop up possibly giving her a heart attack when she isn’t looking – that people think this way.

“Sakura-chan!” Naruto greets with a wave as if he did not see her this morning, he leans against the bridge and Sasuke looks up. “Did you bring back any dango?”

“Of course not,” She huffs, “After that wake-up call, do you really think I’m going to bring you a _treat_.”

“Naruto you should know better,” Kakashi appears in a cloud of white smoke, his Hokage robes still pristine against his shinobi gear, “Sakura-chan likes her beauty sleep.”

Sakura glances at the water underneath the bridge, she has to swallow a laugh at the look of disbelief on Minato’s face. He asks her with incredulity lacing his tone, “Kakashi’s _Hokage_?”

Sakura inclines her head and then turns to face her teacher, “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that, sensei.”

“Why not?” Sai frowns.

Sasuke sighs.

“Alright kiddies,” The group twitches at the name, “I thought it would be a nice day since my week in Mist with bickering politicians and even greedier Daimyos to teach my team, hm?”

“And what exactly are you going to teach us?” Sasuke drones because despite them not saying it, the four of them are in their early twenties and perhaps their sensei is well _old._

Kakashi’s eye crinkles and then he replies with an exaggerated amount of cheeriness, “Why, teamwork Sasuke.”

Sakura sighs louder than Sasuke and she frowns, “Sensei, really. What’s going on?”

“Sakura-chan,” The Hokage says her name like a song, fluid and knowing, “You were always my favorite student,” he ignores Naruto’s yell of disbelief, Sasuke’s raised brow and Sakura’s snort, “The four of you will become my Hokage Guard Platoon.”

There are a few moments of stunned silence.

“You’re joking,” Sakura blinks, “Sensei, we have to be ANBU to be a part of your platoon.”

“I know,” He winks.

Sakura takes a few steps back in suspicion.

“You want us to take the ANBU exams,” Sasuke states quietly, he looks over at Naruto who’s just as shocked.

“But I’m already ANBU,” Sai says slowly.

“That’s right Sai,” The Hokage nods at him and then claps his hands, “All I have to do is reinstate you, as for the rest of you children,” he makes a line with his pointer finger, “You have some training to do, even though you three were given a field promotion – even though Sakura-chan’s the only one who properly became Jounin – you still have a lot to learn to take the ANBU exams,” he looks tired as he finishes, “A war can only do so much for growth. There’s still a lot more you have to learn and if you want to become Hokage Naruto,” he looks at him seriously, “You have to do it properly.”

Naruto stares at him.

“Realistically,” Kakashi turns his head to face his only female student, “Sakura-chan is the best candidate to be Hokage.”

Naruto feels like he’s been slapped, his fists clench, “What? Why?”

Sakura flinches at the sudden animosity, she doesn’t know what Kakashi is trying to do, but she does _not_ like it. There’s a power shift in the group, Sai soon realizes. Sakura’s earned her Jounin status, she went through the system, she’s been in the war, she’s done everything correctly and—

“Sakura is the Fifth’s apprentice, she’s succeeded Tsunade-sama, she’s the world’s best medical ninja, she’s been the Hokage’s assistant for nearly six years, she was an advisor to Shikamaru during the war, she’s the director of her _own_ hospital, she’s an ambassador to Suna and she has more field experience than all of you,” Kakashi explains, “Sakura is technically a far better candidate than you. If you want to be Hokage, Naruto, you have to be serious.”

Sakura has always dreamt of recognition, especially from her team, but the way Kakashi praises her and the way her team looks at her—she just doesn’t _want_ it.

And it’s ironic too because it makes her feel even worse.

Sakura nearly flinches when she feels spider-silk caress the back of her neck and God _help_ her, she doesn’t know what to do. She doesn’t look at Naruto, but she glares at Kakashi because he’s antagonizing Naruto on _purpose_ and for what reason, she doesn’t know.

“With that said and done,” Kakashi crinkles his eye again, “Let’s start sparring so I can gauge your abilities,” he pauses and clarifies, “Abilities only. That means no sharingan, no rinnegan, no Kurama, no kekkai genkai and am I missing something?”

Sakura wants to slam her head into a tree.

“Just the basic three: ninjutsu, genjutsu and taijutsu,” Kakashi then pauses, “And kenjutsu.”

She couldn’t fault him, Kakashi basically stripped her teammates of their power-ups, now they were just like her, and that has to be good enough for now, and to her surprise, it’s Sasuke that _complains,_ “And Sakura gets to keep her super-strength and medical skills?”

Kakashi smiles behind that stupid mask of his, “Sakura’s super-strength is actually chakra control, it’s not even part of the basic three and it’s medical _ninjutsu_.”

The three of them stare at her with incredulity.

At least Kakashi is realizing that she made _herself_ into a shinobi with no special blood or power-ups. She’s worked from scratch, with her bare knuckles and raw intelligence—that is what sets her apart from her teammates.

“Sakura fights primarily close-combat, so she will spar with Sai because he’s a long-distance fighter,” He instructs, “Sasuke with Naruto.”

“How should we spar?” Naruto finally speaks.

Kakashi thinks for a moment and then he replies just as casually, “Until you pass out.”

Sasuke’s eyes widens fractionally.

_It’s an all-out spar._

And Kakashi never condones these types of training exercises, so he _really_ must be serious.

Sakura slips on her training gloves, she tightens them over her wrists, glances at her kunai and Minato’s face flashes. She turns to look at Sai, not even bothering to sense where Sasuke and Naruto’s battle is taking place. She asks with hesitation, “Ready?”

Sai nods, “Please don’t make me go to the hospital after.”

She laughs despite herself, “I’ll think about it.”

Sakura stares at him for a few seconds and then she disappears.

.

.

.

Sai has to admit, Sakura has improved a great deal since the war. She’s gotten faster, much faster, fast enough that _Sasuke_ has to use the second level of his sharingan to keep up with her. Sakura’s training is mostly built on her hiding and healing, not on the front lines and the only time she’s on the front lines is when she uses that Yin seal of hers. Her fists gets stronger every day, she’s using less and less chakra to destroy something and that’s scary by itself.

Being able to destroy the earth with her bare hands, is enough to keep him on his toes, especially since she began studying earth ninjutsu, combining that with her raw strength made him cautious of staying on the ground, but she’s only picked up a few, or so he’s heard.

Her hospital work keeps her busy.

He understands with Kakashi is doing with the separation tactics. ANBU squads do rely on teamwork tactics, at least a handful of times, but they are mostly a one man-team, meaning that they must learn to work independently. When ANBU shinobi wear those masks, they are stripped of their identity, they are de-individualized and de-personified, they function with the sole purpose of serve Konoha and if they should die, they die under the pretense of being _just_ a body.

It’s a cruel evil, but it’s necessary and Sai’s spent months trying to break out of that mental state. It’s easier for him now, to switch in and out of those masks, but he doesn’t know how the rest of his team will handle the drastic change in protocol and dynamics.

When Sakura grabs his ankle from underneath, he gasps and substitutes himself with a log before she could yank him down, but she anticipated that move, the earth swirls around her hand and tangles around his foot and she _swings_ him into the trees. She appears suddenly above the earth and she rushes him because she doesn’t want him to have the advantage.

She charges at him with chakra in her fist, but Sai’s already drawing a tiger with a broken arm.

The tiger roars and jumps at her, she barely has enough time to pull back and land a fist into ink, but then Sai’s on a bird and she’s earth-bound. His figures are pre-drawn and now he’s summoning them like the sky is falling.

When Sakura is promptly overwhelmed with her surroundings scattered with animals, Sai takes his time to draw a dragon and Sakura isn’t quite fast enough to dodge its blows when he says _release._

The dragon hits her with a wet _clack_ , she’s sent tumbling into the trees and as much as she uses chakra to soften the blow, she’s way too disorientated to realize how much unsealed chakra she’s using – her chakra is already unstable because of the seal so she’s using more chakra than she really needs – only when her reserves are scraped raw does it hit her—

—and Minato _hits_ her.

The sky is falling, she thinks, because it rains ink and the clouds are white.

She blanks out.

Sakura comes around to the feeling of something warm touching her, it’s not physically touching her, but it’s _touching_ her. She’s only been out for a few minutes, that’s what she hears Sai telling Sasuke—? Or is it Naruto? She doesn’t want to open her eyes, so she thinks and she thinks.

The grass is cool beneath her skin, her fingerless gloves are brushing the blades and the sun feels warm. She thinks it’s the sun, but it smells like the ocean, except she isn’t near the ocean and she’s drifting in the comforting darkness of her mind.

 _Sakura,_ Minato’s voice is warm too, _Our chakra’s merged. Can you hear me?_

Sakura’s eyes snap open and she’s so dizzy that she nearly falls back down if it isn’t for Sasuke.

“What?” She stutters.

Sai glances at the Hokage in concern and Kakashi leans down to ask her gently, “Sakura do you remember what happened?”

Sakura blinks.

_My head is killing me._

_I can try and suppress it_ , Minato replies gently, _but I don’t know how long I can hold it._

She’s startled and tries to look for a reflective surface, but she doesn’t have to because Minato is in front of her leaning against the tree and he presses his finger against his mouth.

She’s really trying hard to _not_ scream right now because now he’s _visible._

So she calls out, uncertainly, in her mind, _Minato, is there a reason I can see you or hear you for that matter?_

Minato’s voice is like the sun on a rainy day, _When your chakra reserves dropped, our Yin seal activated and pushed chakra into you. My chakra is now fully merged with yours, so you can hear and see me._

“Sai pushed me into the trees, didn’t he?” Sakura said flatly, she brought a green hand to the back of her head and removed the strain, _I need you to stop whatever you’re doing so I can heal._

The ache comes back with full force, but it cools into a throbbing sensation when she finishes.

“Sorry about that, Ugly,” Sai smiles sheepishly, “You almost killed me.”

Sakura could feel shock and aghast radiate from Minato – she’s really going to have to sit down for _that_ talk – _Did he just call you ugly?_

“You had a sealed scroll,” Sakura points out, “That’s cheating.”

“That’s right,” Kakashi makes a sound of disappointment and whacks Sai over the head with his book. Sasuke eventually releases Sakura so she can stand and moves over to set Sai’s arm in place. The Hokage then looks at the tower and almost groans, “Well, I have duties to attend to, but come back later for an assessment.”

And then he disappears, but so does Sakura.

.

.

.

“So, let me get this straight,” Sakura paces in her room as Minato sits on her bed watching her with ocean-intense eyes and a small quirk of his lips, “Now that I’ve tapped into my Yin seal, our chakras have fully merged – because we both are compatible with Yin chakra and that was the only thing binding us – so now, you can hear my thoughts, I can see you, and you can feel what I can feel and I can feel what you can feel?”

Her explanation is warbled, it’s missing words and it’s a little confusing, but it’s expected.

Minato takes a moment to think, “And I can touch you.”

Sakura walks over, tries to place her hand on his very fluffy hair and she doesn’t hide her sigh when her hand slides right through him. Minato laughs a little, grabs her hand to test the connection and she’s _shaken_ because now, he _feels_ real.

He feels warm, almost human and she feels _guilty_ because now he’s _bound_ to her.

Minato pauses as he intakes her new emotions, her thoughts and then he presses his lips together, “Sakura. It’s _not_ your fault.”

But yes, it _is._ If she had read the mission scroll carefully – because she’s _always_ fucking careful – then she wouldn’t have unsealed the scroll and bind him to her like she’s his fucking _keeper_ and now she’s terrible because when Naruto finds out, he’ll _hate_ her for confining his father to her and it might actually _kill_ her—

“Sakura!” Minato’s voice is deep and it’s angry and it pulls her to her knees. His hand is tight around her jaw and he forces her to look at him. Storm-intense orbs of cobalt, of silver that glitter like sea-salt and he _looks_ at her. She can feel his disbelief, his anger, his frustration, something like fondness and _pity_ —he’s wondering, how—how on earth is it _possible_ to feel such self-hate? Who, with all purposes and intent, conditioned her to feel this much _shame_ and responsibility? He breathes, calmly, too calm to be real, “Don’t _ever_ speak about yourself like this, again.”

Sakura stares at him with shock and she remembers how she felt earlier.

_Vulnerable._

And she does _not_ like it.

So she puts her defenses up, it’s like a mental roadblock and Minato’s surprised by the mental wall. He touches it, it feels like something is tickling her brain and she can’t scratch it. Her mental strength had always been strong, impenetrable thanks to Inner Sakura—she might as well tell him that now, but he’s still holding her jaw.

“I can’t hear you,” Minato says suddenly, his grip loosens, and her knees dig into the wooden floor.

“It’s a mental block,” Sakura responds quietly, “I wasn’t lying when I said I was a genjutsu type.”

“Genjutsu types are usually adept at chakra estimation and control,” He explains slowly, blue eyes probing, “Mental defenses are made, people are not born with them.”

Sakura may be able to block her thoughts, but emotions—emotions are something you can hide physically, but when you are within your own person or another’s mind, you have no control over them and Minato feels it as soon as Sakura tries to squash it.

_Fear._


	3. retrograde

It takes her a while to explain to him what a disassociative personality is and then some, coupled with the concept of _Inner Sakura_ , which probably makes her look even more insane, at least to her. Sakura’s knees are numb from sitting on her haunches, but she makes no move to voice her concerns, instead, she shoves herself against the bedframe and watches him intake the information.

“I’ve never heard of such a mental defense,” Minato tells her honestly, his brows furrow.

“Neither have I,” Sakura replies with a shrug, “After my first chunin exam, she made herself quite known and then faded a few years later. I assumed it was because I didn’t repress my feelings anymore so she just disappeared, but I always wondered where she went.”

“If she was already dormant,” He starts and then adds in quickly, “I’m treating her as another entity,” he explains, “Then it wouldn’t matter if I permanently sealed her. She derived from your mental state. I was a real person and with real chakra. She wouldn’t be as dominant as I could be.”

Sakura is quite sure, that he speaks suggestively unknowingly.

“What about visuospatial distance?” She asks curiously, green eyes pick up the gray light of rainclouds, “You can obviously move around, but it has to be limited because you’re attached to me,” she stands up and winces when her knees ache, “This emotion thing too. Is it because our chakras are mixed?”

“Chakra is a mixing of energy,” Minato begins, “It’s not stagnant. It’s a moving, changing, evolving type of energy because mine is counter-clockwise and your chakra is clockwise when you tapped into the Yin seal it pulled our chakras together which leveled out your control.”

“In case you haven’t noticed,” She points out dryly, “My chakra control was shot during my sparring session. I haven’t exactly tested it out now because my reserves are dry.”

“You still managed to destroy the field,” He raises a blonde brow with amusement.

“Barely,” She huffs, “It wasn’t strong enough. That damage was equivalent to my fifteen-year-old self. It was mediocre at best.”

“You say chakra control is all that you have,” Minato suddenly remembers, he watches her grab a towel from one of her closet doors and some clothes from his drawers, “What do you mean by that?”

“My chakra control is the ninety-seventh percentile,” Sakura states blandly, “I’ve come from a civilian-based clan. I don’t have a bloodline limit and I don’t have a furry tenant _._ The only thing that I have is chakra control,” she pauses to grab a brush in another drawer, “I’m a paper ninja at best, I work with theory rather than application.”

Minato could only stare at her with bafflement as he ingested a summary of her abilities – it’s obvious that she struggles to stay relevant – but, people aren’t born knowing how and what to do. Teaching is implemented for that reason. Out of respect, for his vessel, he didn’t divulge too deep into her memories when he first got sucked into her body, but he saw brief glimpses of _neglect_ and _abandonment_ from his own student.

Disappointment couldn’t cover what he feels for Kakashi.

“You are a self-made shinobi,” Minato says – he doesn’t know why he says this, maybe it’s because he was a Kage and he understands or maybe he pities her – before she left the bedroom, blue lightning, and steel colors his eyes, “And those are the best types of shinobi.”

Sakura didn’t look back, but he could feel something small, something quiet tremble at his words.

* * *

“So you’re telling me,” Sakura tries to push down her anger, but she’s entirely way _too_ close to strangling her very beloved sensei, “That you antagonized Naruto,” she finishes with an irritated squeak, “On _purpose!?_ ”

“Sakura-chan,” Kakashi sighs with a certain amount of chiding that she bristles, and Minato is bewildered by her temper. He places down his brush and crosses his fingers pleasantly, “Naruto may be strong enough to be Hokage, but there are certain things he’s either ignorant towards or he chooses to dismiss. Politics for one. Trade. Treaties. The Daimyo. Intercultural-relations. The economy. Infrastructure. Objectivity,” he makes a gesture with his fingers, “I could go on, but becoming Hokage, as I’ve learned, is not an easy job,” he rubs his face, “I don’t know how sensei did this.”

Minato’s laugh curls like smoke around her veins.

Sakura looks at him with exasperation.

“—Shikamaru is a close second in terms of candidates, but he’s head of his clan now, making him my successor would put a strain in the council. ANBU will change the three of you, the dynamics are—”

“I know,” She grimaces, part of her is still in shock that Kakashi is practically _fawning_ over her, “I remember when I had to deal when I went through the ROOT archives.”

“So you understand that it’s a necessary evil and you know what ANBU will expect of you,” He tells her and then he shrugs, “If I have to give Naruto a kick in the ass to make him think seriously, I’ll do it, but Naruto is not ready to be Hokage. I know you would never take Naruto’s dream away from him,” Kakashi speaks seriously, “But if the situation calls for it and I’m not here or capable of making a decision, you _will_ be my successor.”

“There is no person better suited for the job than you, Sakura-chan,” Kakashi’s eye crinkles, “Which is why you need to train _super_ hard for the ANBU exams and become part of my platoon.”

Sakura can barely function at this level of incredulity. There are too many things happening. Her brain can only capture one thing at a time. Intelligence. Politics. Council. ANBU. Successor. But the most, terrifying, and mind-boggling conclusion was that Kakashi-sensei is _serious._

“Any other questions, Sakura-chan?”

He waits and then waves off her speechlessness with a smile and tells her as she leaves the room, “Remember, your assessment is later today! After lunch!”

Sakura pinches the bridge of her nose.

How, on earth, does she end up in these situations? She’s a civilian-bred shinobi and she doesn’t have the physical prowess that it takes to become Hokage. Pushing aside superhuman strength and her Yin seal, she’s not very adept in the basic ninjutsu and genjutsu field, especially kenjutsu. Her manipulation towards medical jutsu and chakra control keeps her creative.

Minato interrupts her thoughts, his own thinking interweaving with her’s, _I never thought I’d see praise from Kakashi._

Sakura snorts despite herself.

_You and me both. Kakashi-sensei never bothered to really acknowledge me while I was growing up. The war changed him._

Minato nods his head, _Sometimes it’s for the better and other times it’s for the worse._

 _You’re not upset?_ She asks him suddenly, her eyebrows furrow, _I mean with what sensei said about Naruto?_

She thinks, at least, Minato would have some inhibitions or some irritation as to what Kakashi said when he spoke of Naruto or, cruelly examined him with the scrutiny of a microscope. It can’t be easy for someone to practically derail their son in front of them – at least inconspicuously – and quite brutally at that.

 _Kakashi is right,_ Minato nods, he shoves his hands into his pockets as he walks next to her, _Naruto may be a war hero, but he doesn’t know how to run a village. He’s been in and out of the village for a while, hasn’t he? When he trained with Jiraiya-sensei he was gone for three years. I did roughly eight-five missions for diplomatic, political, and economic purposes, but that was hands-on training._ He looks at her with a shred of exasperation, _Sarutobi-sama did not give me the Kage-ship until I knew the law backward and forwards. I still had to have administrative training._

Sakura took her time to process that tidbit of information, _Administrative training? Really?_

 _Hokage duties primarily deal with more paperwork than anything,_ Minato chuckles, _Treaties, trade agreements things like that, but I think you already knew that._

Sakura shakes her head, _I’ve been doing Tsunade-sama’s paperwork for years, sometimes she just drinks and tells me what to do,_ she wrinkles her nose, _I never heard of administrative training._

 _When I was in ANBU, I was out in the field, Kages stay in the village and they run the village. Not the field,_ he differentiates with a sigh, _I never had much patience for paperwork._

Sakura breathes a laugh.

“Forehead-girl!” Ino’s voice snaps her out of her mental conversation, platinum blond hair shines like corn silk in the wind, she smiles and pokes her shoulder, “I haven’t seen you in a minute.”

“Ino-pig,” Sakura greets and walks with her, “The hospital is kind of busy and I just got back from a mission.”

“Eh,” She shrugs, “Still, you owe me lunch.”

“How do _I_ owe you lunch?”

“Because you nominated me to be a Jounin-sensei and then disappeared,” She scowls and crosses her arms over her chest, “Now I’m officially instated.”

“Really?” She raises her brows, she didn’t know Kakashi would take her seriously, but after Asuma’s death and the aftermaths of war, they need to build back their force, “When do you get your team?”

“Couple weeks I think,” Ino replies, she sniffs, “What about you? Thinking about teaching?”

“Kakashi-sensei wants me to take the ANBU exams,” Sakura drops that bit of information a little too casually for Ino to gain equal footing, she ignores her gape and continues, “Plus, now that I’m the director for the hospital in the south district, Tsunade-sama is going to have you running back and forth as a representative, and I think I deal with enough children on a daily basis.”

 _Director of the hospital?_ Minato asks quietly, he looks at her and then back to Ino.

 _Originally I was head of the central hospital, but since Tsunade-sama’s retirement, she took back her title._ _We opened another hospital in the south district, which is where the civilians live and I’ve taken over as Chief of Medicine, but I don’t normally use that title unless it’s an emergency. I’m the Director for Children’s Mental Health since the war ended,_ Sakura explains, her hands tighten around her elbows, _Adults can heal quickly, but children take time._

“ANBU exams?” Ino can’t wrap her head around the idea of her best friend applying for ANBU, her lips thin, “ANBU isn’t a joke Sakura. After Tsunade-sama got into power, my dad told me that they completely redid the ANBU curriculum. Protocols, ranking, missions, and divisions. Everything.” She raises her hands up dramatically, “And I mean _everything_.”

“I know, Ino-pig,” Sakura sighs, “I was given full authority into ROOT after Pein’s invasion. I know what they did, but I don’t know how much sensei changed the curriculum since then. New regime changes mean that some programs and policies are either redone or vetted.”

“You sound like a councilman, Sakura,” Ino points out with a frown.

_I hate sensei._

Because now, she’s starting to see what he’s talking about.

Minato has the nerve to _laugh_ at her irritation.

“I feel like one,” She grumbles.

“What’s with your eyes?” She asks suddenly, she grabs her face and _looks._

Sakura is almost uncomfortable with the intensity of her gaze and she can _feel_ Minato’s stiffness. Carefully, she grabs both her friend’s wrists and removes the appendages off her face. She answers slowly, “It’s another Yin seal, for more chakra storage.”

“You’re _still_ competing with your teammates?” She frowns and then rolls her eyes, “When are you going to forget about those thick-headed powerhouses and start living your life? The war is over and, I mean Sai already asked me out on a date.”

Sakura nearly trips, Minato’s arm around her shoulders is like steel, so to Ino it looks like she catches herself, she turns to give Minato – who’s standing next to her – a grateful look and then inquire with disbelief to her best friend, “Sai asked _you_ out?”

The mental image of Sai and Ino together that Sakura puts together makes Minato question his sanity— _that’s Sai?_

She bristles, “What’s so wrong with me and Sai?”

Sakura blinks, obviously there’s nothing wrong but, she thinks for a moment, “Nothing. It’s just Sai and his emotions…” she pauses, “I don’t know. I didn’t expect it.”

Ino’s eyes soften and it makes Sakura nearly recoil because _when_ did Ino become so, understanding? And it’s a bitch thought, that much she knows, but Ino has always been, she’s always been the materialistic type, the vain type—but war _changes_ people and it’s different for her. She hums, “I know, but he’s trying and he’s becoming really,” she pauses and then smiles, “Good.”

Sakura tries to squash the faint wisp of envy before Minato can feel it, but Minato feels everything and so she does her best to ignore his stare. She punches her shoulder, “I’m happy for you, pig.”

“You don’t need to be so violent, forehead,” She winces and rubs her shoulder, “But thanks,” and then she pours salt on blood, “Now, you didn’t answer my question. What’s going on with you and Sasuke?”

And Sakura shoves that mental wall back up.

As if she needs Minato to _hear_ her thoughts about Sasuke, even though he can feel what she’s feeling, she doesn’t want him to understand what she’s feeling. She clears her throat, nerves knotting, “What about him?”

“Has he made a move?”

“You’ve been reading way too many romance novels,” Sakura laughs forcefully, “And honestly. I don’t care.”

Minato can feel her lie and it’s like a pebble dropping onto still water.

“What do you mean you don’t care?” Ino asks incredulously, “You’ve been in—”

“Ino!” Her voice is higher, sharper, her mortification an all-time high and the briefest bits of heartache swallow her chest, she tries to even out her voice, “I don’t want him.”

_Not anymore._

Ino seems to understand and she nods, “Good. You’re too good for him anyway.”

Sakura’s anxiety lessens, but she’s still tense and Minato isn’t saying _anything._

“Anyway, not that I don’t enjoy catching up,” Sakura tries to run because, Ino’s mouth is never safe, “But is there a reason you’re following me?”

“How arrogant,” she snorts, and then she remembers, “Tsunade-sama is looking for you. Something about a scroll?”

Sakura drops the wall, “Where is she?”

* * *

“Close the door, Sakura,” Tsunade orders her and when she does, she immediately sets a sound barrier around her medical office.

“Tsunade-sama?” Sakura asks nervously and walks over to her desk.

“Is Minato there?” She asks with amber eyes, her arms underneath her chest.

She stiffens and turns her head to look at the Fourth who stares at wide eyes. He looks at her and nods.

The pink-haired medic confirms, “Yes.”

Tsunade sighs, she pulls out the blasted scroll that got her into this mess and presses her hands to her head, “Goddamit kid, what the hell were you thinking messing with fūinjutsu and demon chakra? According to the carbon dating and blood analysis, you _just_ started learning Whirlpool seals when you made this!”

Minato winces at the scolding, _I’m sorry, Tsunade-hime, but you already know the answer to that._

“He says you already know the answer to that,” Sakura acts as a medium and takes a seat on the chair in front of her.

“Tell that dumb blonde – who gives _Naruto_ a run for his money – that he didn’t finish the fucking _seal_ ,” She growls, “Which is why his soul is attached to my apprentice!”

Sakura stiffens, “What do you mean _soul_?”

“I’ve studied this seal a hundred times for the past few days with the scrolls Jiraiya left,” Tsunade begins, “Using blood as an activation key, a quarter of the Kyuubi’s chakra and his own chakra, and then he forgets to finish the seal!” She grits her teeth, “He didn’t equate his natural energy.”

The pink-haired medic’s mouth parts, she grabs the scroll and unravels the sealing jutsu, her eyes already picking up the equation and she does the math. Then, she hisses, “Minato, how did you forget to integrate an exit cipher?!”

Minato’s reading over her shoulder, his hair tickles the side of her cheek and she feels his warmth, but she’s far too pissed to feel uncomfortable. _The exit cipher is on the bottom right of the scroll._

Sakura’s eyes trail down, “The cipher is smudged.”

“How is it smudged?” Tsunade asks with barely restrained irritation.

Sakura turns to stare at Minato, but then she remembers the nin that chased her during the mission. How they used ninjutsu to throw into those trees and how she snatched the scroll but didn’t open the scroll when she grabbed it.

Unless.

_Unless those nin opened it first._

“Those nin that ambushed me during the mission,” Sakura starts, she thinks back to the bone masks, “Do you think they opened the scroll first?”

Tsunade considers that notion, a little bit more relaxed, “It’s possible. They can purposefully alter the seal without activating it.”

“But why?” She asks, “The purpose of the scroll is to seal a demon or something into a vessel. What could they possibly want with a scroll that doesn’t really have much value?”

“It has demon chakra,” The Fifth tells her, “Anyone would do anything to get their hands on demon chakra, even if it’s mixed with Minato’s chakra because it’s the last of what’s left.”

 _Altering the seal would’ve sealed me to them regardless of their intention,_ Minato interjects and then he thinks _unless they didn’t alter it on purpose._

“How do I unbound him?” Sakura asks suddenly.

Tsunade grimaces, “I don’t know if you can. Yang energy is different, you are bound by Yin energy, which is spiritual, and since the both of your chakras are merged,” she stares at her with scrutiny, “If you tried to separate your chakras, it could cripple you, Sakura.”

Chakra is always a difficult concept to grasp, inputting and outputting chakra means that control has to be precise, but forget precision, timing is also important because energy _moves_ and it can unravel just as fast. To separate chakra means that you have to split yourself in half, it’s not like it’s a cursed seal where chakra is layered on top, yin chakra is _merging_ and it’s threading into a tightly-knit stitch. It’s interwoven and nearly impossible to break. 

“But you aren’t bound by Yang energy,” Tsunade’s voice gives her a sliver of hope, “Which is why you can probably see him, but can’t touch him.”

And it’s _creepy_ how she knows that.

“I’m going to advise Kakashi to implement some scouting missions,” She sighs, “And I’m going to pull him in the loop, but no one should know about this. Not even Naruto. I don’t think I have to spell out what problems— _international_ crises can evolve from this.”

“No, Tsunade-sama,” Sakura answers, her head is killing her from all this information. As if she needs Naruto to know that his dead father is haunting her, as if she needs that stress, her temper mixed with confusion and irritation can only lead to so many fights and she really does _not_ need that right now.

And it’s back to the Hokage’s office as soon as she finds her feet. It’s noon and she’s waiting in the office as her sensei rattles off some nonsense about his new book from this new author and Minato’s shock at his pornography-loving student—where did he go _wrong?_

“Well?” Kakashi waits, his tea steaming in front of him.

“You want us to rewrite the treaty?” Naruto stares at him with absurdity, he stands in front of the desk with a scowl.

“I want _you_ to rewrite the treaty,” The Hokage corrects, “You’re going to have put in simplistic terms while integrating the new Kumo section and economic policies, all the while decoding Third’s encryption,” he shakes his head sadly, “Unfortunately, the old man still used coding from the First’s era.”

Sakura almost wants to laugh at Naruto, he deflates like a balloon, his shoulders hunch, and his sad puppy eyes almost glossy.

“Sasuke,” Kakashi starts with a crinkle in his eye, “You’re going to be traveling to Mist to visit the Water Daimyo for a week. You’re going to introduce the new foreign policy act which allows both the Water and the Fire Daimyo to do trade for the civilians,” He tries to emphasize, “Not for shinobi, but for _civilians_. We took a devasting loss during the war and civilians are not built to withstand such complexities in our government and health issues from the war – not to mention the new standard for living – using the Daimyos, – who are non-shinobi – can prevent the quiet tendrils that could arouse a civil war,” he watches the last Uchiha flinch, “It’s a good-faith gesture if you will and I thought, what better person to introduce to the civilian district as a representative from our country, none other than Uchiha Sasuke.”

Shikamaru points out, from his desk on the left side of the room, “But, the Daimyos hate each other.”

“I _know_ ,” Kakashi’s eye crinkle creases even more, “Which is why the mission duration is indefinite.”

Sasuke stares at him with disbelief.

“After the Daimyos have agreed to the new policy, you are to then to hunt the remaining members of a resistance force known as the _Mizuchi_ ,” He turns to Sakura with a wink, “I heard from a little bird that they want to assassinate the Water Daimyo and we can’t have that happen while you’re in the country, hm?”

 _When did Kakashi learn to play politics?_ Minato stares at his former student with incredulity, proud he is yes, but still incredulous.

 _I told him to do this last week,_ Sakura groans mentally, _The government in Mist is getting worse, especially since their resources have taken a hit since the war, they’re going to have to do something or they’ll have to file for bankruptcy soon._

“And dear Sakura-chan,” The Hokage sips his tea and Sakura feels the need to run, “I can’t exactly send my favorite student out in the wilderness to face disgusting, perverted, irritating little politicians,” he ignores Sakura’s scoff, “The hospital is clearly in need of your expertise and with the new programs you’re implementing in the south district, it’s clear that you can’t be running around. So, you’re going to be training with me until your legs stop working, and host our first annual three-day spring festival.”

Shikamaru stares at him as if he’s lost his goddamn _mind_.

“You’re giving dickless and emo, political and administrative work, while ugly here has to plan a party?” Sai asks bluntly, his eyes widen with surprise.

“Sakura-chan is an ambassador,” Kakashi shrugs while he pours some more tea, “She can rewrite the litigation and reduce unsubsidized debt with her eyes closed,” he pulls out a set of scrolls, “The _Sakura_ festival,” he winks at his pun and Sakura has to force herself to relax or she would attack the Hokage in broad daylight, which in fact, is _illegal_ , “Is actually to enforce the new relations Konoha has acquired since the war. Keeping good relations and unity is of the utmost importance,” he stops smiling, “We can’t afford another war,” and then sips his tea, “We have to play mediator because there is still bad blood with other countries, the shogun of Iron has already sent warnings to other villages that the country still remains neutral.”

“The shogun already agreed to come, didn’t he?” Sakura finally speaks, her eyes exasperated, but somehow, she’s not surprised.

“Right as rain, Sakura-chan,” He nods, “The festival is in three weeks, you’re still going to be preparing for the ANBU exams.”

“And how are we going to do that?” Sasuke demands.

 _Minato,_ Sakura starts, _What can you tell me about the ANBU exams?_

Minato leans against the window, he crosses his arms and stares at her while Naruto voices his objections towards paperwork.

_When I was in office, ANBU exams tend to conclude of four requirements, intelligence – which usually is based on international laws – combat, torture and you have to have a fellowship within one of the shinobi sectors._

“ANBU exams, now,” Kakashi clarifies, “Are five sections. Intelligence, combat, torture, a fellowship within one of the shinobi sectors, and then a psych exam.”

“A psych exam?” Sakura says slowly.

“Most ANBU shinobi are put under high amounts of stress and strength,” Shikamaru answers for her, “ANBU are conditioned to derive themselves of all emotion, their sole purpose is to serve Konoha and Konoha alone. The subject of teammates and teamwork does not exist in ANBU.”

Naruto blinks slowly.

“It’s a dog eat dog world,” Kakashi presses his lips together, “Everything I’ve told you about teamwork and working together in groups is exempted from ANBU, yes you are put in squads and yes you have to follow a captain, but if the mission goes to hell and you have to leave—you _leave_ , even if you have to _leave your teammate behind_. Solo missions are created for that purpose, to limit the number of deaths, but they are times where you do have teams, protocol is different for ANBU. If your teammate cannot continue on the mission, you must leave them behind.”

Sakura did not know that, _that_ was part of ANBU. Everything Kakashi has taught them – no matter how little it was – she had to throw it out the window because teamwork and teammates did not exist outside of Konoha. Maybe, that is why Kakashi left ANBU. Maybe he couldn’t take it anymore.

“What about these fellowships?” Sakura asks again, she decides to clear the air before Naruto can open his mouth and yell that this isn’t _right_ and this isn’t how it’s _supposed_ to be, part of him is right that this isn’t _how_ it should be, but the village has to come first and to be Hokage, that is how you have to think.

“Tactics, Torture and Interrogation, Analysis, Medic Corp, Correction Facility, and R&D,” Shikamaru lists, his fingers twitch against his brush, “Those are the only sectors that are still standing, everything is else is still rebuilding.”

“Since Sakura-chan is co-executive with Tsunade-sama of the medical corps because Shizune-san is in Suna setting up the hospital,” Kakashi begins, his fingers brushing the back of his neck, “You can do a fellowship with either one of them. I was going to exempt Sakura-chan from the fellowship, but Shikamaru is _dying_ to have her tactics.”

Shikamaru scowls and ignores her green eyes, “I said we could _use_ her in the Tactical Department.”

“Uchiha will fit in better at either the Correction Facility or T&I,” The Nara continues, “As for Naruto, I think you should consider T&I too,” his lips thin, “T&I or Analysis.”

“What do you think, Sakura-chan?” Naruto asks suddenly, his eyes so very blue and earnest, as if he’s not angry at her, but still values her opinion, and sometimes she thinks that he doesn’t know what to do with her.

_Minato?_

Because that’s _his_ son.

Minato does not give her an answer.

But if Naruto, she swallows, if _Naruto_ really wants to be Hokage, he has to _understand,_ and should she condemn him to a world where he truly _understands_ what being a shinobi means? Who is she to decide? But if he’s _really_ asking her—

“Sakura-chan?”

“T&I,” Sakura says suddenly before she can change her mind, and it _will_ change him, because Naruto has not seen half the things she’s seen and maybe when he does, he will finally _understand_ that being a Hokage, is not all awe and happiness, because if everyone is happy, you’re doing something _wrong._

You are not _respected_ because you’re the strongest ninja in the village, you are _respected_ because you have to make the hardest decisions every day and take the backlash unflinchingly, you have to take the criticism and you have to understand that this is what makes a _Hokage,_ and it’s a sacrifice.

_A sacrifice._

* * *

“Are you trying to _kill_ me?” Sakura yelps as she dodges the fifth water dragon he tosses at her, her fingers dig into the earth and she grabs on for her dear life.

“Your reflexes are still admirable,” Kakashi jumps down with his kunai and swipes to the left.

“That’s because I’m a medic,” She scowls and shoves herself to the right. Her hand catches onto the trunk of the tree and she flings it at him.

Kakashi’s not expecting such agility from his student, he can’t flicker fast enough, his shoulder taking the brunt of the blow and then he appears below her, but she’s waiting for him and she snaps her fist _down._

“That was mean,” He says, twenty feet behind her, and he’s limping.

 _I got Kakashi-sensei’s leg._ She’s somewhat dazed, but it’s the good type of daze because she got _Kakashi-sensei’s leg._

“Never sneak up on a girl, sensei,” Sakura chastises him and sets his leg. Minato walks over as she heals him, her body is aching, parts of her just wants to lay on the grass and _sleep._

“I always ask for consent, Sakura-chan.”

She flushes at the innuendo, but she does not reply verbally. Her knees are sore on the ground and she shoves herself against the tree. Spine straight and exhaustion heavy she sighs. “You shouldn’t single me out like that sensei, you know how Naruto gets.”

“If Naruto can’t take criticism from people cares about, how do you expect him to grow?”

“Can’t you bully Sasuke instead?” Sakura scowls.

“What happened to your undying love?” Kakashi teases, he ruffles her hair and quotes from his favorite series, “ _It’s burns like the sun and hurts like thorns of orange-colored roses.”_

“It kind of died when he tried to kill me twice,” She deadpans, she crosses her legs, and questions him exasperatedly, “And _Icha Icha Tactics_ really? What does _Ryo-san_ know?”

Kakashi stills and then turns his head. His voice is filled with such elation and pride, “You’ve read Jiraiya-sama’s books, Sakura-chan?”

“It’s on the back of the book, sensei. It’s impossible to miss the words,” Sakura tries to ignore the heat rising to the back of her neck and Minato’s blatant staring.

 _His first book was the best,_ Minato interjects with a quirk of the lips.

Sakura turns to stare at him in disbelief.

“Didn’t Minato-sensei tell you he was a big fan of his books?” Kakashi asks gently.

“No, I didn’t know that the _Fourth Hokage_ reads porn,” Sakura scowls, a headache beginning to throb beneath her left eyelid, somehow she can’t imagine, Minato sitting at his desk in the Hokage tower reading porn.

_I’m surrounded by perverts._

Minato snorts, he takes a seat next to her – a little too close to her if she’s being honest – and tells her, _it doesn’t have much sex, it’s mostly drama and adventure—I’ve only read his first book._

_I am not_ _having this conversation with you._

“I didn’t know what it was either until I was fourteen,” Kakashi admits and then he sighs longingly, “I have a whole case in my apartment now, I couldn’t put them down.”

“I am _ignoring_ you.”

“But have you read them, Sakura-chan?”

 _If you read them,_ Minato muses, _wouldn’t that make you a pervert?_

Sakura growls more to herself than to anyone, in particular, she did _not_ read them, she read the _summary_ , “It’s a shame I can’t hit you.”

“Who?”

She refuses to dignify that with an answer, not even when Minato’s trickle of amusement tickles her nerves, her mortification only spiking and annoyance simmering.

“I’m going to teach you some water jutsus,” Kakashi informs her, “It’s about time you start picking up your elemental ninjutsu. I know a handful of earth jutsus and I don’t think you really need a lot since you can pretty much create an earthquake.”

“Don’t you have things to do?”

“Not really, Naruto and Sasuke are actually doing all my work,” His eye crinkles, “Good job on that water Daimyo argument, the council agreed that it’s a good way to keep relations steady. Offering a nin to clean up their mess seems logical.”

Sakura shrugs, “Not that big of a deal.”

_You don’t give yourself enough credit._

Minato speaks to her as if he knows what she’s been through and she wants to voice her concerns, but part of her is probably wondering if he _does_ know her. If his soul is so intertwined with hers, maybe he _does_ know her, but at the same time, he really doesn’t.

“Sakura-chan,” Kakashi’s voice overlays with exasperation and scolding.

Sakura puts up her mental wall.

“Why are you even bothering to train me, sensei?” She suddenly asks and it’ s bitterness that tangles into her heart. It’s a weakness, to hang on to the past, to hold a grudge, but Kakashi has never really taken an interest in her, so she feels somewhat cheated. She’s confused, but most of all she’s disappointed, “You didn’t bother with me when I was a genin, so why are you starting now?”

* * *

Minato’s predicament is not exactly ideal, he doesn’t know where to start and he doesn’t know how to accept his current situation. Here, he is, stuck to Konoha’s top medic, his son’s teammate, and his student’s student, but somehow, he knows it could’ve been worse. It could have gotten much worse. He’ll bite his tongue and go along with whatever his vessel wants, it’s not like he has much of a choice, after all.

At least she’s competent.

That was his first thought.

Sakura, he soon realizes, has a shrewd type of intelligence, half of her brain works on rational, logical thought and the other half works emotional and mental balance. She’s always planning, planning something, not for herself, but for others and she has a certain shard of ruthlessness to her. It’s cold and hidden, buried beneath layers and layers of self-doubt and inadequacy.

The depth of her emotions is never-ending because she empathizes and she wears her heart on her sleeve, she purposefully leaves herself _vulnerable,_ because her emotions _are_ her strength and she _uses_ them. Embedded deeply in her soul, she burns and she will not be satisfied until things are done in a way she deems acceptable. She will manipulate and she will shape the outcome to her _will._

But she cares and she cares and she _cares_ about everyone and _everything._

She’s built herself up, she’s determined to live and her ambition no matter how murky it is now will become clear, clear like a diamond when she sets her sight on that goal.

He feels humbled, to be in such a strong but kind container, perhaps it was luck that led him to her – a teammate of her son and student of his student—the _convenience_ – she lacks conviction and drive because she is and will always be a bleeding heart.

Kakashi has always been a prodigy in his own mind, but he is haunted by his ghosts and this is why he second-guesses himself. To lead means that he must face the future and not the past, and yet, he’s looking for atonement.

Sakura’s bitterness and disillusionment are reasonable, she feels weakness for holding grudges and she’s aware of it too, but she doesn’t dismiss it because she wants to _understand,_ even if it makes her weak.

Kakashi winces at the jab, but he doesn’t defend himself because he knows it’s justified and he sighs. When he sighs, Minato has to bite back a flinch, because it’s a _tired_ sound, so tired that it borders on weary, like the world is too heavy and the sun is too bright, and he doesn’t want to do what he’s doing anymore. It’s the sound of an old man and it grates his bones, “I know I haven’t been a good teacher to you Sakura,” he leaves the affectionate honorific out as a sign of his sincerity, “But I want to give you the support and training that you deserve. Sasuke and Naruto have always been in a league of their own and you held your own. You rose to the ranks and demanded respect, you care about your old sensei and that’s more than I deserve.”

Sakura’s eyes widen at his honesty.

“You listen and you don’t act until you’re completely sure you have a way out,” He tells her, his fingers dig into his pocket, “You are one of the best shinobi out there and I am proud of you,” his eye crinkles, “I just wish I was there to help you.”

Her heart is heavy in her chest, she feels sad, but she’s also happy.

But part of her wonders, if he’s just doing this because he feels guilty. Does he pity her? Or is he upset that he wasn’t the one to teach her?

Minato knows that her self-doubt and her self-confidence started from her childhood, but she didn’t know Kakashi would be a cause and _not_ a symptom. He’s making up for lost time, and that’s an old man’s belief he realizes, and it makes _him,_ he, the Fourth, guilty, because—because his life was a tragedy, and Kakashi _suffered_ for it.

Rin _died_ for it.

Obito and Obito—he didn’t even know where to _begin._

Minato was probably deemed the most selfless of all Hokage, but he disagreed because he believes he is the most _selfish._ He knew that the seal on Kushina would weaken when she became pregnant, he knew that it would be unstable, he knew that there was a possibility that she could die, but he wanted a child.

He wanted a _child._

He could have adopted, there were so many children orphaned during the war.

But he wanted a child.

With his own flesh and blood pumping through his veins and he loved Kushina so, but she also knew how much Minato _wanted_ a child and she had to give it to him—she _had_ to because that was how much she loved him. She would condemn herself to death, just to make him happy, but Minato thought that he would be able to stop the destruction, her death, the attack—thought he had enough time, but he miscalculated and it cost him.

_It cost him everything._

“Sensei please stop looking at me like that,” Sakura attempts to lighten the atmosphere because it makes _her_ feel guilty for holding in resentment, because Kakashi is her _sensei_ and even if he did not teach her or guide or, he is _always_ there. Whether it be in a tree or checking up on her reports at the tower or smile on his way to HQ.

_Always._

“Like what?”

“Like I should give you my firstborn,” She says uncomfortably.

Kakashi pauses and then asks lightly, “ _Will_ you—”

“No,” Sakura breaks his leg. Again.

Minato stares at their antics, it’s reminiscent of Tsunade-hime and Jiraiya-sama, but at the same time, because Sakura is Kakashi’s student and it’s really _really_ strange. She has enough kindness, enough compassion to _not_ be angry with him – even though she should be. She should be furious and hurt and _angry_ – but she’s not because that’s her _sensei._

And Minato _wishes_ , he wishes so earnestly that the world could be just as _forgiving_ as her.

Sakura is everything he wishes to be.

“I’m still not teaching chidori.”

“I never asked.”

Still, she pats her sensei’s head and heals his broken leg, the quiet hum of chakra filling the air.

Minato would pass his legacy on to her, for as long as he should live—as long as he’s bound to her, he would pass it to her, he would teach her everything he is and everything he was, because she loves her son and his student and Konoha, and maybe, only then, would he be able to breathe easy knowing that there is someone out there with that much goodness in them. 

Kakashi wants to make amends.

And Minato wants redemption.


	4. solstice

“So, how’s training with sensei?” Naruto asks and stares at the scroll with a blank expression. His back is pressed flush against Sakura’s, with the grass beneath them and the trees above them on training field twelve. 

“Eh, it’s okay,” she wrinkles her nose, “He makes me train with his dogs sometimes.”

“That’s just mean,” He replies with a frown and picks up another scroll on the left side of his lap, “Pakkun used my frog wallet as a chew toy when I was a kid.”

“Gross,” Sakura exhales and looks up at the sky. The question burns on her tongue, “Are you mad at me?”

He blinks slowly and asks just as slowly, “For what?”

“For Kakashi-sensei naming me his successor or deputy—person,” She clarifies, “I mean if anything were to happen to him, I’m the next in line.”

Naruto stills, “You’re next in line?”

Sakura nods, “Yeah. Until you’ve finished whatever training sensei puts you through, I’ll be next in line,” she pauses, “You know if I ever had to take office, I would gladly give it up to you once you’re ready.”

She would rather her be the one to tell Naruto that she’s Kakashi’s backup, part of her wants to spite him for dumping all his responsibility on her plate, but the council is a bitch and she isn’t that _mean._

_Are you that worried?_

Minato sits on a tree branch watching them, as much as he desperately wants to talk to Naruto, part of him didn’t want to. Naruto was sixteen the last time he saw him and now he’s twenty—he’s practically a different person. He never knew Naruto the way he _wanted_ to know him, but it was hard because his son was nearly the _same_ age as him.

“I know, Sakura-chan,” Naruto wilts a little under her soft tone, he knows it’s not her fault, but still he feels kind of bitter towards her _._ It took Sai’s detached speech and Shikamaru’s objective reasoning for Naruto to accept what Kakashi had tried to explain, “I know.”

“Good,” she says sternly, but her nerves settle, and cold relief drops into her stomach like a heavy rock, “Because I’m going to make sensei force you to learn Kiri and Kumo code once you’re finished with that treaty.”

“Sakura-chan,” He whines, “That’s not fair, the old man’s code is harder than learning fūinjutsu coding.”

“Well, I guess you don’t want to be Hokage then.”

“Ugh,” Naruto groans and slides onto his stomach, “I wonder how the bastard’s doing.”

She snorts, “I’d kill just to see him be civil with the Daimyos.”

“He’s probably chewing off his own tongue.”

Sakura laughs and pops her spine. Sitting on the grass for so long forces her posture to be rigid, her shoulders are tense, but she wants to be here with her blonde teammate. Standing up, she grabs her pack and turns to Naruto, who is pretending to take a nap. She is struck with a strange thought: they are young, so very young and they are _war veterans_.

It’s a horrifying thought, even as the sun beats down on them through cluttered leaves, it makes Naruto look like a teenager, even with his new outfit, black and black with a shred of orange because he is _Naruto._

“I’ll see you later, maybe for dinner, I have to run to the hospital,” she frowns, “And for the love of _God,_ no ramen tonight.”

“What’s wrong with ramen?” he bristles.

“What’s _right_ with it?” Sakura cocks an eyebrow and tightens her belt strap, “Find Sai if you really need help. I’m sure he knows some of the codings. He _was_ in ROOT.”

Naruto blinks, “Oh. I forgot about that,” he smiles sheepishly and rolls over onto his back, “I’ll look for him later then.”

She waves and uses shunshin to disappear.

“Did he surprise you?” Minato asks as she enters the civilian district.

“I thought he’d be madder at me,” Sakura explains, fingers twitching against her skirt, “Naruto tends to be hot-headed and tactless at times. He dreams of being Hokage and his no-name teammate manages to become the best candidate? I wonder at times.”

Minato actually glares at her and it makes her eyelids twitch. He looks a lot more dangerous than Naruto, that’s for sure, his lips are pressed into a thin line and ocean eyes become hurricanes within a nanosecond, “Part of me regrets not beating Kakashi over the head with the notion of equality, I would think teamwork would’ve branched off into that.”

Sakura snorts, “I try to not think about it, but sometimes the twelve-year-old me makes an appearance.”

She greets the women behind the administrative desks and takes the elevator up to the top floor. Technology had flourished throughout the countries, trade with Iron and Kumo – who obviously are more advanced – it had gotten easier for civilians to keep up with shinobi in terms of comprehension and movement.

“Sakura-sama!” Yuki, one of the orphans, speeds down the halls in her wheelchair and grins, “You’re back.”

“I told you I’d be back,” Sakura ruffles her hair and then narrows her eyes playfully, “What did I tell you about racing in the halls?”

She chuckles nervously, “Not to?” Yuki shakes her head, “I just wanted to see you before Kouga did,” she scowls, “He keeps hogging the television.”

Sakura rolls her eyes and tells her teasingly, “Listen. Koga is a boy and boys are kind of dumb, right?”

Yuki nods eagerly.

“So if you ignore him,” she begins slowly, crouching down to the floor, “He might give you the remote.”

“But why would he do that?”

She chuckles, “Because he’s doing it to bother you.”

Her eyes widens, “Really?”

“Yep,” Sakura stands up and pats her head, “Now, I know you have physical therapy in twenty minutes, if you go early and finish early, I may _know_ where to find a box of Suna chocolate.”

Yuki immediately picks up on her subtle implication, she smiles and salutes, “Okay. I’m off to see Yumi-sensei! Make sure they’re strawberry-flavor, Sakura-sama!”

Sakura reminds her, “No speeding in the halls, Yuki-chan!”

Minato stares at the child fondly, almost fatherly, and asks her, “How old is she?”

“Nine,” She replies, she walks down the hall and makes a left down the corridor. The walls are a pale beige, with brown trimming, and she opens a glass door with her name on it, “A building fell down on her during the war; it killed her family. Both her legs are paralyzed,” she takes a seat in front of her desk, “But she’s showing progress, so I might be able to help her.”

Minato blinks, not understanding where she’s coming from, paralysis is rare to overcome, especially for that of a civilian, “What do you mean _help her_?”

Sakura rubs the bridge of her nose, “It’s hard to explain, but her neurons aren’t completely deadened in that area. Civilians bodies heal a lot quicker than shinobi, ironically, her nervous system has been taxed obviously, but she can feel heat and pressure and the cold, so I might be able to stimulate some electrical impulses with lightning ninjutsu, though I don’t have an affinity for it,” her fingers grab a file in the lower right corner of her open cabinet, “But I can still use it. Her brain and spinal cord weren’t injured during the attack, it’s just her legs, so I might be able to stimulate a pathway,” she shrugs, “But it’s difficult because even though she can heal faster, her mortality rate is higher because she’s a civilian.”

Though he is not an expert at the human body, her explanation is somewhat dumbed down and it makes him feel like she’s untouchable, because this is _her_ battleground and she knows where and what to do. She’s a tactician really, but she feels like she’s limited.

Part of him is in awe, because he _knows_ Tsunade, and to see someone else _surpass_ her—that is a legend in its own right.

“Civilians don’t have chakra,” Minato points out.

“That’s why it’s difficult. Using chakra on civilians is always risky because they can’t absorb chakra. If we pour chakra into them, it can rupture their cells, and then they’re going to be clotting—it gets complicated,” Sakura explains, “They don’t have reserves, so where does the chakra go? It gets immersed in their bloodstream and blood is everywhere. Which is why I’m really pushing her hard in physical therapy, Yuki will create reserves by building muscle—she just needs enough so she doesn’t bleed out once I figure out how to heal her.”

“I can see why Shikamaru-san wants you in the tactical department,” He comments suddenly, his blue eyes are like two sapphires.

She rolls her eyes, “I’m a planning ninja,” she sighs with a quiet sense of conclusiveness, “I have to be.”

—

“I think I may have a jutsu that can help you with Yuki,” Minato says after she enters the room. She’s running in and out of meetings for about three hours, one minor surgery and then another hour of paperwork.

“Oh?” she blinks green eyes and chewed on her dango, “What is it?”

“Lightning Rod,” he replies, taking a seat in front of her desk, he rests his cheek against his palm and explains, “It’s offensive ninjutsu. After coming into physical contact with the opponent, the user raises their arm into the air, generating a bolt of electricity that travels through their body transferring the electricity to the body of the opponent.”

“It sounds like a close-combat move,” Sakura frowns, “I would have to minimize it to something smaller, do you know the ninjutsu equation?”

Minato stares at her, “Ninjutsu equation?”

She looks at him funnily, “Is there something wrong?”

“You know how to do ninjutsu equations?” he sounds baffled, “They stopped implementing that in the academy after the war.”

Sakura looks at him with exasperation, “Seriously? I’m not an idiot,” she grumbles, “I’ll have you know, _Hokage-sama_ , that I was placed within the same intelligence range as you, sensei and Itachi-san.”

Minato laughs, a part of him was still in shock and the other part of him is pleased because she isn’t _boasting,_ but explaining, “You were a bookwork, weren’t you?” he smiles in a way that reminds her of Naruto, “And it’s _Minato._ ”

“I really hate that I can’t hit you,” she scowls. 

His amusement is warm against her fingertips, “It’s illegal to hit a kage,”

“I hit sensei all the time,” Sakura points out, “And you’re not Hokage anymore, _Minato_.”

“Yes, but I’m sure he deserves some of those beatings.” Minato replies nonplussed, “After all, you are his student, right _Sakura?_ ”

Sakura feels the fresh cracks of her temper brewing, but she steps on it like it’s a goddamn _cockroach_ , as if she has the time to deal with Minato’s _innuendos._ It’s so bizarre and strange and just frankly, baffling. She doesn’t know if he’s teasing her or if he’s flirting – which just makes her want to scream and laugh at the same time – or if he’s just not _aware_ of how charming he is.

She stares at him with a blank face, even with her thoughts hidden behind a wall – at least for this moment – she could understand how easily this man became Hokage.

And it’s _not_ fair.

“The equation, Minato,” Sakura presses, she drops the wall, allowing her inner musings of strangulation and maiming of his person be known.

It isn’t fair when he merely quirks his lips into a small grin at her thoughts, “I’ll write it for you.”

“Can you even grab a brush?”

“That wasn’t funny, Sakura.”

“A shame, I thought it was hilarious,” She deadpans.

Minato and her relationship – if she could call it a _relationship_ ; she’s more of a pretty container – is somewhat of an easy comradery, it’s strained for the obvious reason, but it isn’t like she had anything to hide.

It’s getting really hard to ignore how _attractive_ he is—he’s probably one of the prettiest men she has ever seen, like how his voice deepened when he laughs, the sharpness of his jaw and the blue of his eyes. God, every time she had thoughts like these, she throws that wall right back up so she can amuse her hormones and then settle for something like companionship.

“It’s a wide-scale chakra swap,” Sakura comments as she watches him write the equation, kanji bleeding into numbers and dispersing with natural energy. Her chin rests on the desk as she observes his ghostly fingers curve the brush against the paper, “What rank is it?”

“B,” He answers and finishes the equation with a black drag of the brush, “It doesn’t require much chakra unless you’re trying to spread the lightning to more than one person.”

“What about if I split it,” she purses her lips and then points to the section where tiger meets ram, “Here.”

“If you cut chakra here, the lightning will become unstable,” Minato answers, his fingers brush the edge of the scroll.

“I’m going to have to really minimize this, then,” Sakura groans, her fingers root in her hair, and then she looks over the scroll, “What about drawing lightning from the sky?”

“Only people with affinities can do that,” He points out with a raised brow, “I thought you knew that.”

She grimaces, she sips her cold tea, “You give me too much credit. As I’ve told you and Kakashi-sensei, I don’t _use_ elemental ninjutsu, so I really wouldn’t know.”

“Well why not?” he demands and his brows furrow, “It doesn’t make sense if you have two affinities and you can’t use them?”

“I was never trained,” Sakura admits bluntly, fingers dig into the side of her bicep, “I learned medical ninjutsu. Chakra with my fists is just—it’s taijutsu, it’s not really ninjutsu, even though I don’t _need_ chakra to have supernatural strength, it’s pure muscle, so I can’t really count that for anything. Plus, as a medic I wasn’t allowed to go into the line of fire unless I _had_ to,” she points to her yin seal, “That’s why sensei is teaching me or at least I think so. I mean, my long-distance combat is horrible, and genjutsu is something I’m pretty sure I’ll do well in—it kind of reminds me of medical ninjutsu.”

Minato listens to her explanation, part of her reply is reinforcement from her earlier conversation with Kakashi, he comments lightly, “You’re fighting style isn’t balanced.”

“No it’s not,” she affirms, scratching the back of her neck, she scrutinizes, “My taijutsu is pretty decent and my ninjutsu is well, average—I don’t think medical ninjutsu really counts,” she finishes her dango stick quickly, “And I can easily get out of genjutsu, but to make one? I only know one jutsu.”

He stares at her with stormy blue eyes, the thing with her fighting style – that he figured out through observation and repetition – is that she’s adaptable. She’s able to figure out the advantages and disadvantages of the situation and come with a solution just as quickly. Being adaptable was a hard skill to acquire, if you took Sasuke or Naruto for example, they preferred to ignore the setbacks and take action head-on, whereas Sakura, she would analyze the problem and then manipulate the environment to work to her benefit.

But being flexible, that comes with survival—his eyes narrows, she would’ve had to be placed into an impossible situation to come out with such malleability.

“I’m going to teach you Hiraishin,” Minato declares suddenly. He says it so _nonchalantly,_ so simple, so _pleasantly_ , as if he’s stating a fact—like the sky is blue, the grass is green and the sun is bright. As if, it’s a given—as if there is no _doubt_ in his mind, that—that this is all that there was.

Sakura stares. She stares and she _stares_ , she knows he could feel her shock, her confusion, but what he does not understand, is why he couldn’t _hear_ her thoughts even though her mental wall is down. She blinks, “I’m sorry?”

He looks at her, “I’m going to teach you Hiraishin.”

It doesn’t occur to Minato that her comprehension filter has actually _shut down._

_“Why?”_

Minato frowns, “Why what?”

“Why are you going to teach me?” Sakura asks stupefied. It’s a cliché response nonetheless, the _I-feel-bad-for-the-civilian-shinobi._ That excuse she means. She isn’t looking for anyone’s charity and she most certainly isn’t going to _beg_ anyone to help train her. Yes, pride is a sin, but so is pity. “Hiraishin. Why are you going to teach me that? Shouldn’t Naruto learn that?”

“I think Naruto is faring pretty well.”

She scowls, “Hiraishin should be taught to Naruto because you’re his _father._ It’s his birthright. I am just your container.”

Minato would like to think that he is patient, he would like to think that he is tolerant, he most certainly had more patience and tolerance than Kushina for one, but that’s all that it was.

A tolerance.

He has a limit, because contrary to belief, Minato is just as human as everyone else. That being said, he narrows his eyes at the pink-haired medic, his irritation fed into her confusion and it takes her a second to realize that it was _he,_ that she is feeling, “First of all, the Hiraishin was developed by the Second Hokage—there is no _such_ birthright.”

Sakura stares.

_He did have a point._

“Second of all, Naruto can take care of himself,” Minato says and then he mutters bitterly more to himself than to her, “He’s been doing it for some time now anyway,” he clears his throat, “I’m teaching you because I _want_ to.”

_But what does that even mean?!_

Disbelief floods her system, if it isn’t pity and if it isn’t for an actual reason—then, how could he possibly _benefit_ from her learning Hiraishin? Logically, it didn’t make sense. There would be no reason for her to learn Hiraishin, it’s not like she wouldn’t _want_ to learn the Hiraishin.

But, there has to be a _method_ to the madness.

Minato listens to her thoughts carefully, trying to understand why it is so _hard_ for her to comprehend such a small thing, but then it comes back to the way she learned and how she _lives._

“Contrary to belief Sakura,” he begins with exasperation and crosses his arms, “Not everyone has an ulterior motive.”

“Unlikely,” Sakura snorts, the war had made her jaded, cynical, and part of her hated what she has become.

“You’re my partner now,” Minato states blandly, “My container, my vessel—you’re my equal,” because she really is, she is a part of him and that is all that needs to be known, his eyes are storm-blue, “I’m going to teach you because I want to because you make me believe in hope because you belong to me as much as I belong to you.”

And that wall, it went _straight_ back up.

—

_Because you belong to me as much as I belong to you._

It’s hard. Sakura has longed to hear those words. For someone to say, not those exact words, but the same weight of those words spoken by Minato to her—to make an oath, to tie themselves down to her whether hell or heaven came.

It’s hard to swallow.

Minato had said it because they were _one_ because they were in this together even if they were to never separate.

“Why are we back in your apartment?” Minato asks suddenly, he watches her unlatch the door, sliding her fingers over the lock of the doorknob.

“To get my notes,” Sakura replies simply, she still hasn’t dropped her wall – her emotions are everywhere, contradicting and puzzling – the Fourth has a hard time trying to figure out just what she’s feeling, he’s satisfied with being left in the dark.

Her apartment is a mix of pale yellow and brown undertones. A reddish-brown oak, smooth maple, and white trimming. Her living room is opposite that of the kitchen and she shuffles into her room. In her bookshelf, she grabs a thin notebook, with white paper peeking obstructively from the green base and she exhales. She packs her messenger bag with another notebook, a few writing utensils, some riceballs – that Sai had conveniently picked up earlier – and a bottle of water.

“Which training ground did you want to go to?” Sakura asks, her fingers twists in the brown fibers of her messenger bag as they leave the apartment complex.

“Fifteen,” Minato replies, shoving his hands into his pockets, he walks beside her, “It has fewer trees and the field is more even. What time do you have to see Kakashi, again?”

“After his stupid movie is over,” She huffs. _Icha Icha Red_ came out last month and Kakashi-sensei has been _dying_ to see it. A few weeks outside the country made it seem like he’s being punished. Even though Jiraiya was dead, his editor continues to make those stupid books, and apparently, it’s like the toad sannin never died. “Which is probably around six.”

“So we have three hours,” he nods more to himself than to her.

“How long did it take you to learn Hiraishin?” she asks curiously and he feels her wall come down.

“To learn,” Minato hums in thought, “I think two weeks? I had to create my own formula and match it to my chakra affinity. To master it, it took me two months.”

“Two months?” Sakura inquires with disbelief, “That long?”

“Is it really that long?” he raises a thin brow.

“To master? I would think so? It took me two weeks to learn medical ninjutsu, to master it—I took a month,” She replies and then frowns, “But that was because I only used fish. I was a little nervous to try it on an actual patient, pouring too much chakra can rupture their circulation system and put them in a coma.”

“Medical ninjutsu is a little different,” Minato says slowly, “Chakra control has to be precise, the only way to understand medical ninjutsu is to do it. Hiraishin, well space-time ninjutsu is a much harder concept, because you have to understand the theory before applying it to the field. Space and time are relative, you can’t think about it as if it’s two things. They are connected, but they _aren’t_ connected.”

Sakura stares at him, her own thoughts are woven, like silk on a spiderweb, “So, it’s like cloth then? They’re connected but they have their own pieces?”

He smiles, “That’s one way to put it. It’s kind of like chakra in a way.”

“Do you mean how it keeps moving and not stagnant?” she asks, her lips purses in thought, “I mean, chakra is always moving and it’s never truly gone,” she pauses, “Unless you’re dead. I think,” she’s confusing herself and she knows it, “Though I can’t prove that because, well, you’re an example.”

“You think I’m stuck in a space-time ninjutsu?” Minato blinks.

“Or something,” Sakura shrugs, “Don’t you think it’s plausible?”

She doesn’t wait for an answer, instead, she scribbles her name onto the roster sheet and enters the barracks. The blonde stares at her with something akin to uncertainty and that scares him a lot more than he would like to admit because uncertainty makes him _uncomfortable_. It’s a simple matter. Her explanation actually makes _sense_ and because he’s stuck in this form, he has no way of proving that theory, let alone comprehending it. It’s a question for another time he supposes, he rolls his shoulders and decides that he has other things to worry about.

Sakura sits against the tree and pulls out her notebook. She bites the inside of her cheek and says, “This is all I have so far.”

Minato takes a seat next to her and looks over at her notebook. He couldn’t resist the laugh building up in his chest, even with or without his help, Sakura would have learned Hiraishin. Written in messy blackberry ink, is technique formulas. Somehow, she managed to cut down the equation to half of what it was supposed to be, perhaps, that was _why_ she was so shocked when he said he was going to teach her. Sakura had already decided that she was going to learn Hiraishin—by _herself._

“Is this why you didn’t want me to teach you?” he chuckles and swipes his own face, “Because you were teaching yourself?”

She rolls sage-green orbs, “This notebook is half a year old. I almost gave up on learning it. The Hiraishin is a _pain in the ass_ because you have to balance out the natural energy with spiritual energy, then you have to equate your chakra, plus or minus your affinity, and _then,_ you have to add _something_.”

“You have to add a summoning seal,” Minato points out, his fingers drag down the paper and points to the natural energy substitution, “Here.”

“Summoning seal?”

“A lot of people think the Hiraishin is like shunshin,” he shakes his head, “It’s not. Shunshin is limited, the Hiraishin can be used for people, places, things and objects. Hiraishin is related to summoning jutsus because it’s not limited. To mark anything with the Hiraishin, you have to use the hand seals for the summoning jutsu.”

Sakura stares at him, irritation and incredulity bleeding into each other, she bites out, “ _That’s it?_ ”

Minato nods.

“So I spent six months on this freakin’ _equation_ because I didn’t add in a summoning hand seal?”

The Fourth knows better than to laugh, instead he blinks prettily and nods.

Muttering dark curses underneath her breath, she yanks her pen out of her bag and rewrites the equation. She adds in a summoning seal underneath the natural chakra and then ties in her chakra affinities. “Like this?”

Minato looks over her math, makes sure her chakra reserves matched her affinities, and nods, “Yes, though I can’t believe you managed to cut the equation in half. Your formula will be only three kanji letterings.”

She shrugs, but she couldn’t help the quiet swipes of elation and excitement building up in her stomach at the thought of a new jutsu, she grumbles, “It still took me half a year.”

Minato’s fingers dis into her scalp and she tries not to shudder when he rakes his nails down to the base of her neck in a mollifying action, “Shut up, Sakura.”

She scowls and tries to pretend that the motion wasn’t calming, “I could have learned this sooner, but I didn’t know the Hiraishin fell under the summoning jutsu classification.”

“What did you expect?” he crosses his arms, “You were teaching yourself. Teachers were made for these types of things.”

“I didn’t have a teacher besides Tsunade-sama and she was _Hokage._ ”

“You could’ve gone to the library.”

“And do what?”

“You could’ve looked for my notebook,” he frowns.

“Everything related to you was classified,” Sakura says blankly, “I picked up parts of the Hiraishin from Jiraiya-sama’s scrolls, Tsunade-sama had let me study them while she was dealing with the aftermath. The only way we knew of you was from the word of mouth. You were like a myth. Half of the academy didn’t think you existed.”

Minato’s lips press together, he looks uncomfortable and she could feel his irritation, so she decides not to push it. Instead, she rewrites the equation on a neater piece of paper, “What do I do with the equation now?”

“Do you have chakra paper?”

“Yes.”

“Copy the seal onto the paper,” he instructs, “Press the paper against the tree and use the summoning hand seals.”

Sakura obeys, when she pulls the paper off the bark and looks at the rough copy on the tree. The black ink is messy, blurry actually, muddles against the uneven surface of the bark. Fortunately, it’s legible.

“We can use this as a basis,” Minato explains, “Soon you’ll be able to implement the formula into a hand seal rather than ink, but that’ll take time. Now walk to the other side of the field.”

Fifty feet, her boots dig into the grass, she asks, “Here?”

“Yes,” he pauses, “Now force chakra into the formula as an input and use the ram hand seal as an output.”

Sakura trickles chakra into her palms and disperses the energy among her fingers—she gasps when she feels herself move forward. It’s dark like she’s falling into an endless abyss and her senses are warped. She could barely breathe as she’s shoved forward and then slams into the tree with a seal.

“Oh,” Sakura groans as she slides to the ground, her ribs are bruised, she can _feel_ it and she rolls over. Motion sickness, heavy in her stomach and it reels up her throat, “ _No_.”

Minato has the _audacity_ to wince and he scratches the back of his neck, “Right—I may have forgotten to mention that the Hiraishin is _kind of_ disorientating.”

Sakura’s mouth mutters something very colorful against the blades of grass, her thoughts depict a range of scenarios, all ending with her strangling the Fourth. Minato is wise enough not to comment, but not talented enough to stop the warm prickles of amusement from trickling into her veins. Her voice is muffled but it sounds reminiscent to the word, “ _Sadist._ ”

“Again.”

Minato’s teaching skills are no better than Kakashi’s if she has to be honest. Minato is patient, that much Sakura would give him. The hiraishin is a theoretical type of technique, it requires a broader understanding of movement and chakra rather than a hands-on approach. From the fleeting conversations that she had with Kakashi – those that were about his past and what he was _willing_ to share – his descriptions of his teacher were pretty vague. Kakashi has no qualms about expressing the fact that his teacher was a _genius_ , but that he was lenient with them.

Which for some reason makes _sense._

Naturally, Kakashi would feel that his teacher was lenient with him because Kakashi is a _prodigy_ – according to the academy and his instructors – so he obviously felt that his learning and progression was strained because his teammates were not on his level.

Minato had also drilled the concept of _teamwork_ into them – which was probably the only thing that stuck with her during her short time with team seven – but other than that, she really doesn’t _know_ Minato.

“You’re getting the basics down,” Minato assesses as she presses ink formulas to random parts of the training field, “Your landing could use some work and your chakra input is too slow.”

“I wouldn’t be slamming into trees if I didn’t feel like vomiting every time I activated the goddamn formula,” Sakura grumbles underneath her breath and winces when she tastes grass on her lips. Pulling chakra into the formula forces her body to move against her will and without a buffer, she’s landing headfirst into the object she inked, and then rolls onto the ground in nausea.

“As soon as you get over your motion sickness, your landing should improve,” he says casually, as if it’s so goddamn _simple_.

She grits her teeth.

How she would just _love_ to shove her chakra-infused fist into his _face._

“What do you mean my chakra input is too _slow_?” she pauses and then squawks outraged at his nonchalance.

Minato smiles, “Cut your chakra quicker.”

To an outsider, a clan-bred shinobi or to someone with a bloodline limit—his advice would sound strange. Incomplete even, but to Sakura, it makes perfect sense. The Fourth isn’t known for his chakra control – even though he had it, because Sakura wasn’t the _only_ one with perfect chakra control – he knows how to manipulate the outcome of his battle.

Sakura pulls her chakra into the kanji and cuts the flow of chakra just before it overflows.

She is nauseous yes, but she’s _fast_.

Much, much _faster_.

Despite, the fact that she slams herself, again, into a nearby tree, her speed has improved by seconds and she feels like _lightning._

_Was this how he felt?_

Minato steadies her shoulders as soon as her brain makes sense of the movement, her stomach rolling and he compliments her with a small smile, “That was almost perfect, but becoming one with a tree is counterintuitive.”

“Minato,” she gasps.

He blinks, “Yes?”

“ _Shut up._ ”

—

“Gizzard?” Chouji questions with surprise and takes his time writing his notes.

Sakura nods and reminds him, “It’s a Suna delicacy.”

“I thought that was winter melon and wild grass?”

“That’s for Kusa,” she pauses, “Might as well add that too.”

Chouji nods.

Planning the spring festival is not exactly easy, Sakura has come to realize. After the war, keeping relations are much, much difficult. Inclusion is nice, but it’s hard to keep everyone included because there are so many customs and traditions to remember – internationally – and if there is some form of exclusion—well, there are _only_ a certain number of ways to keep the peace.

“What about Kiri?”

Sakura thinks about it, she had only come across a few Kiri nin. The Mizukage is quite a character, somehow she reminds her of Tsunade-sama, but other times she is reminded of Sasuke. Chojuro on the other hand, he’s quiet and sort of Hinata-like – but that was three years ago – he had explained what Kiri was and what it’s like now. “They like anything hot and spicy. Pork buns or curry.”

“And the last one we have is Kumo,” Chouji announces and looks at his list.

Sakura sips her tea and threw up her wall, “Kumo, huh?”

Minato looks vaguely startled at the mental block, whatever she’s thinking, she doesn’t want him to know. His stare is obvious, but she pays no heed to it, her thoughts are filled with blonde hair and dark skies. Then she drops it, “Stew. Potatoes and beef. Hearty foods. Multi-grains and dango.”

_Dango?_

Sakura clarifies, “For me.”

Chouji laughs and scribbles that down, “I guess if you’re going to be planning the events, might as well put in stuff you like.”

“In that case,” she flickers her eyes towards the Akimichi head, “Tempura please.”

He rolls his eyes.

“Anyway, I appreciate your clan doing this Chouji,” Sakura sobers up, “Some of the civilians are baking cakes and stuff too, but you guys are doing the bulk of the work and I’m seriously grateful.”

Chouji waves it off embarrassed, “Please Sakura. It’s fine. Seriously, the one thing we Akimichis like doing better than eating, it’s _cooking._ ”

Sakura laughs at that and says her goodbyes to the clan members. Walking out of the Akimichi household is always comforting – not because it smelt like bread, though that is part of the reason – but there’s always a warm atmosphere.

“Kumo likes health food?”

Sakura nods, “Yeah. They’re into that health-strength type of thing.”

Minato hums, “Did you spend a lot of time in Kumo?”

“I’ve only been there twice I think?” she shrugs, “I met a lot of people from Lightning in the medical corps.”

“Kushina was kidnapped by Kumo nin,” he says suddenly, his eyes are still on her, gauging for her reaction.

Sakura doesn’t visibly react. She pauses mid-step and her mind is clouded with surprise, but she doesn’t—physically react. He could hear her thoughts, fleeting, and confused as they are, but he feels her _shock._ Minato never really speaks about his wife or his past for one, mostly because she never really asked and she didn’t feel the need to.

His past is his and his alone—what _right_ does she have to ask?

Minato doesn’t know whether to feel flattered by her respect and understanding for him or irritated and disappointed that she doesn’t feel like she could talk to him, “They wanted her chakra.”

“Kurama?” she finally asks.

If he’s surprised that she knew of the Kyuubi’s real name, he gives no indication. He would’ve thought that feelings of disgust or hatred or happiness or something—something equivalent would erupt from that statement, because the Kyuubi is quite simply, a demon. A demon that was used to wage war against the earth and for someone to kidnap a demon from another village—said village, should’ve been jumping for joy that the _abomination_ was out of their hair.

But all he feels from Sakura is a quiet surprise and thinly veiled sadness for his wife.

“Yes,” he pauses, “They wanted the Kyuubi’s strength to put it mildly.”

“I take it that you weren’t happy,” she muses.

He snorts, “No,” then he pauses, “You’re not going to ask?”

“It’s not my story to tell,” Sakura says simply, they pass Ichiraku at sunset, red coloring the sky with golden dust.

“Sakura,” her name fell from his lips like warm sand, slowly, and then quietly. Perhaps he’s exasperated, Minato never had someone push his buttons like this. Kushina had tried, but she wasn’t exactly successful, because he had found her adorable and he was so hopelessly in love with her that—really, he couldn’t _ever_ get mad at her.

But with Sakura, with Sakura, Minato is feeling every single emotion he deemed as a weakness. Anger. Frustration. Exasperation. Annoyance. Nervousness. Anxiety. Stubbornness. “Ask me.”

She sighs more than aware of his irritation, “What happened next, Minato?”

And it’s the way she _says_ it, makes him shove her against her shoulder.

“Then I saved her,” Minato rolls his eyes at her chuckle. He surprises himself. He is never, willingly violent – unless they were an enemy of course – especially with women and even though he knows that she could handle it, it’s still a _strange_ feeling _._

He _feels_ different.

“How romantic,” Sakura drones, if the Fourth had not been attached to her, he would think that she had been mocking him—the tendrils of amusement wrap around him like silk.

“What about you and Sasuke?”

Green eyes widen, he isn’t very subtle if that’s what he is aiming for—her lips press together, even with Minato reading every movement, every thought, every flicker of light passing her irises, he doesn’t want her to feel cornered, so he continues, “Teammates usually end up together.”

“Not mine,” Sakura replies and then shrugs, “I think I know them a little too well.”

“Naruto?”

A faint curl of horror washes over her, she shakes her head vehemently, “God _no—_ no offense Minato, but he’s more like a brother to me. A really annoying kid brother,” she pauses, “A sweet one, but infuriating. Plus, he has Hinata-chan.”

Minato raises an eyebrow, “Hinata?”

“I suppose you’ll meet her soon enough,” she huffs, “She’s a Hyuuga. An heiress too.”

His shock is fleeting, but it feels nice to catch him off guard. “Really?”

Sakura mm’d, “Yep.”

“And Sasuke?”

She groans and turns to look at him abruptly. In the back of her mind, she makes sure to do it where no one could see – she didn’t want people thinking she’s crazy for talking to an empty space – she points at him, boots digging into the ground and she interrogates him, “What is with you and wanting to know about _Sasuke_?”

“Because everyone kept bringing it up and I still don’t know what’s going on,” Minato grounds out.

“Is it bothering you because you don’t _understand_ or because you’re curious or because you’re _nosy_?” Sakura’s molars grind together, irritation, and frustration heavy in her blood because it _really_ isn’t any of his damn business.

And maybe she’s being childish and immature and the entire lot, but what the _fuck_ — Sasuke is a subject she wants to avoid talking about, at _all_ costs.

“Sakura,” Minato’s voice is patient, it carries a very hard edge and it presses deep into her, “I want to know if you’re okay,” his eyes a storm-blue, “I know Sasuke was an obstacle that changed Naruto’s life, so he must be one to you as well.”

And _fuck_ Minato for being so goddamn rational.

Sakura could feel herself getting weaker, the way walls of her heart bristle, and the way her eyes soften. She bites the inside of her cheek not wanting to give away everything.

She would _not_ bare her soul for him.

She would _not._

He has not earned that right.

Sakura nestles in the bitter memories of her history with Sasuke, she allows the briefest bits of heart-breaking agony, of self-hate, of self-depreciation, of heartbreak, of _pain_ , escapes her mental block and the intensity of her emotions made his stomach _churn_.

“Sasuke,” Sakura breathes hoarsely, “Sasuke was everything to me. He meant everything to me, but I didn’t mean anything to him.”

Minato watches her silently.

“I was in love with him. I was twelve and I hate to admit it, but at first, I liked him for his face,” She shrugs a frown curling against her lips, “I was a dark hair and dark eyes type of girl,” she pauses, “Then I was placed on my team and I got to really _know_ Sasuke. Even though he would insult me and belittle me,” she smiles bitterly.

“I still loved him. I probably will always love him, but he tried to kill me, multiple times and somewhere along the way, I had to stop loving him—” she swallows, “I _had_ to stop loving him because I would only end up destroying myself and that, that wasn’t something I could live with knowing,” she straightens her shoulders and finishes, “So if your question is _am I still in love with Sasuke?_ The answer would be no. Do I trust him? Just enough to watch my back. But am I okay with him and how he’s here in the village, acting like he did nothing wrong?—the answer is no. No, I’m not okay with and I hope one day I will be, because he’s Naruto’s best friend and I can’t do anything but accept it, right?”

Minato, he understands her a little better—he saw her like this: she is selfless and she hates being so because she placed herself in that situation on purpose because she just wants everything to be _okay._ She just wants everything to be fine and she, so desperately, wants to hold onto the very few shreds of normalcy that is left in her life.

Sakura isn’t looking for an answer, she gave him all the information he needed, but not enough to really understand the depth of their relationship and how much she _really_ loved Sasuke. Because to delve into something like that—something like that where she would have to relive the pain and the agony, it will send her into a depressive state and she hasn’t had one of those swings since she was thirteen.

But Minato’s hand is warm and heavy as it slid up the back of her neck and threads in long, pink strands. Blunt fingernails press deep into her scalp, easing a strain that she accrued during her speech and then he rakes down. He looks at her with the blue of his eyes, a silver glimmer, the quiet trickle of sunset after a hurricane, he looks melancholic, tired maybe, a touch too ancient, and then he breathes with gracious weariness, “Thank you.”

Sakura does not appreciate the irony.


	5. mercury

“And I thought _I_ was bad,” Shikamaru drawls out with amusedly, his fingers brush the table in front of her, nails tapping like rainwater on a tent and Sakura jerks upright swiftly.

Her brain fizzles, pops, and then swims in bright darkness. She blinks rapidly, ignoring Minato’s sigh of exasperation, she asks bluntly, “What?”

“You were sleeping,” he says flatly, glancing over at the pile of papers that are scattered on the desk half-hazardously, he bites back a wince, and then adds in with wry humor, “On my desk.”

“Oh,” Sakura inhales tiredly, “Sorry about that, Shika.”

Shikamaru lifts his hand and waves it off. Judging from the messy scrawl on the left side of the table, he’s quite surprised that she manages to look over a little more than half of his battle plans, taking a seat opposite from her he replies, “Don’t worry about it, I know Kaka—Hokage-sama is working you pretty hard.”

“It’s weird to see sensei as Hokage, I know,” she rolls her eyes and pulls her shoulders back, her spine stiff.

“It’s not that,” he protests and glances over at the high window of the tower, “Using his genin team as part of his platoon is unprecedented.”

“Well Genma-san _is_ getting old.”

Minato laughs, _I wonder what he looks like now, after all, I taught my platoon the Hiraishin._

Sakura separates the stacks of paper into three piles: viewed, adjusted, and unlooked. After grabbing her brush, she marks off some of the international partnerships on the border of Iwa. She thinks wistfully, _And here I thought_ I _was the only one. I feel disappointed that I’m not special._

His amusement is like warm sunshine at her jab.

“So,” Shikamaru starts, he begins to review the adjusted paperwork and looks up at her, “How does it feel to have the Fourth attached to you?”

Sakura stills, her eyes a dark jade as she looks over at him, Minato’s abdomen nearly brushing her shoulder as he stands behind her, and she hisses, “Shikamaru, that’s _confidential._ ”

He shrugs, casually, disinterested, but Sakura knows that isn’t the case when she catches the topaz glint in his hard, calculating eyes, “My office is secured and I _am_ the Hokage’s advisor.”

“Sensei told you?”

“I may have bribed him with a new book.”

“Shika,” her voice hangs in a threat.

Shikamaru raises his hands and then he chuckles, “And Tsunade-sama _may_ have asked me to look into space-time ninjutsu.”

She looks exasperated, “Why didn’t you just _say_ that?”

“And miss the look on your face?”

Sakura kicks the leg of his chair, not even flinching when he slides off with a muted thud. She says with no real venom, “Ass.”

Minato stares, _That’s Shikaku-san’s son?_

She frowns, _Unfortunately, he’s nothing like Shikaku-sama though._

“Troublesome woman,” he grunts, climbs back onto his chair and glares at her.

“I can call Ino if you want,” emerald eyes glints, “I can assure she won’t be as _merciful_ as me.”

Shikamaru mutters something colorful under his breath and continues, “Well, how is it having Konoha’s Yellow Flash attached to you?”

Sakura scratches the back of her neck and answers hesitantly, “I don’t know. It’s strange. It’s like Ino using her mind-transfer jutsu, but he’s not in my head, he’s outside my body and visible.”

He nods slowly and cracks his neck, “I’m going to need a little more detail, Sakura.”

She groans, “I _really_ don’t know how to explain it. It’s like he’s haunting me.”

Minato glares at her, _I am not a ghost._

_How would you know?_

She has a point, he realizes.

“Sounds like a bad horror movie,” Shikamaru replies dryly, grabs the stack of papers, and stamps them with a _to go out_ print, “So, he can see me?”

“Yes,” Sakura answers.

“He’s here, then?”

She looks confused, “Yes? Do you want to ask him something, Shika?”

Minato inquires curiously, _Why do you call him Shika?_

 _Shikamaru and I have been friends for a very long time. We met before the academy, he’s friends with Ino, so we became friends after we met, and then Chouji followed straight after,_ she shrugs mentally, _It’s just a nickname._

Shikamaru’s finger brushes the side of his cheek, he looks slightly out of place, unsure almost and it makes Sakura do a double-take, because she had never seen Shikamaru look so _uncertain_ before, but maybe it’s understandable. They didn’t grow up during the Yondaime’s reign, so they aren’t sure how to address him – other than Sakura because she’s gotten a first-hand’s taste of the Fourth’s personality – because the man really is a _legend._ “Hokage-sama, do you still have any of your notes available?”

Sakura quite frankly, wonders, why she didn’t think of asking that. Library notes were obviously destroyed, but if he had anything _personal_ he left behind…

_Unfortunately no, Sakura had said most of my notes were classified and probably destroyed to keep the secret of Kyuubi contained._

“No,” Sakura shakes her head and crosses her arms, “Remember documents like those were classified, Jiraiya-sama probably took them or moved them or something,” she sighs, “I doubt Tsunade-sama would know, Jiraiya-sama took his secrets to the grave.”

Shikamaru considers that for a moment, “Do you think Root…” he trails off, his eyes lighting at the sudden possibility.

She latches on, quickly understanding his train of thought, “I don’t think so. I went through everything in ROOT, but,” her eyes glitter, “I didn’t go through the Kage archives. There were documents going back to the First’s time.”

He shoves right back, “Those documents are double-sealed in the basement of the Hokage Tower.”

“I’m sure sensei has the scroll to unlock it,” Sakura smiles at that, “I’m sure he’d allow his _favorite_ student to take a quick look.”

Shikamaru grins, “I knew you were my favorite off Team Seven.”

“Don’t let Naruto hear you say that.”

He snorts, “I could just sic Ino on him.”

“Hey, that’s my best friend we’re talking about.”

“I thought Naruto was your best friend.”

Sakura pauses for a moment, “My best _girlfriend._ ”

_Are you flirting with him?_

She nearly drops her brush in shock, she refocuses her attention on the new ANBU schedule, _Is that what you would consider flirting?_

Sakura decides, that this conversation, is _beyond_ weird. She mentally shakes her head, this really isn’t worth the time. She bites the inside of her cheek, “Do you think your dad had any notes? Wasn’t he in Minato’s class?”

Shikamaru stares at her for a moment. It takes him a bit longer than he anticipates to realize that the Yondaime’s name was _Minato_ , hell, nearly most of the shinobi under the age of thirty in the village thought he didn’t even _exist_ ; it occurs to him just how _close_ Sakura is with the Hokage.

Though, he has to consider the fact that, maybe they didn’t have a choice. After all, Sakura is the Fourth’s vessel, calling him Hokage-sama while say Kakashi – who also is the Hokage and Minato’s student is all kinds of _weird_ – he shakes his head, “I haven’t exactly been home lately.”

Sakura narrows her eyes, “What does _that_ mean?”

He grimaces, “Kaa-chan is still going through Tou-san’s things.”

Her eyes soften. Shikamaru hadn’t taken his father’s death lightly, but it’s been _three_ years. She asks thoughtful, “Have you gone through his things?”

“Just his clothes and anything in the closet,” Shikamaru scratches the back of his head, leaning in the back of his chair and sighs, “Tou-san probably left the blueprints to Konoha’s underground chambers if I really decided to look.”

“They exist?”

_I thought that was a rumor._

Shikamaru shrugs, “I don’t know, maybe.”

“You can assign Ino’s genin team to prepare a scavenger hunt if you think it’s too troublesome,” Sakura points out sneakily unless it’s highly sensitive documents, but she trusts Ino enough to keep it under the table if it has to come to that.

“I heard Ino became a Jounin instructor,” Shikamaru makes a noise of interest, his eyes glisten, “Was that you’re doing?”

Sakura grins, “Whatever do you mean, Shika?”

He laughs.

The walk to the basement of the Kage tower is a lot more daunting than Sakura had realized, it’s dark and cold—it vaguely reminds her of the prison somewhere on Crescent Moon Island. It spirals into a stone stairway, with staffs decked on the walls with orange flames. It just _reeks_ of bad intentions.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Shikamaru decides as he looks at the creepy locks of the underground chamber, “This looks bad.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure, Shikamaru?” Sakura quips, grabs the scroll, and launches it into the gap.

“I left it back at the war,”

She rolls her eyes and reads the hand-signs on the sheet of paper that Kakashi had so carelessly scribbled on during his impending meeting with the council. The words read messy, loopy, and just quite frankly, _so_ Kakashi-sensei.

Minato stares at the paper, _I think it’s a boar._

_Then what’s the one next to it? A dragon?_

Deciding to go with a dragon, she bites her thumb, swipes the blood onto the handle, and follow the hand-signs, “Release!”

It’s an eerie sound. The cracking of metal, copper and the faint smell of octopus ink makes Shikamaru’s nose twitch, he deduces, “I think the Kage archives _are_ the underground chamber.”

“I’ll be sure to put that in my novel,” Sakura replies and enters the hall first.

“You’re writing a book?”

“If I come out of here alive,” she huffs, sidestepping a piece of broken stone, she walks deeper into the hall until she comes across a library of some sort. With a wistful sigh, she looks at her companion with direness, “Shikamaru you’re going to have to _pry_ me out of here.”

_There are so many books—!_

Minato wants to laugh when he feels her child-like elation towards the library, scrolls on top of scrolls, and manuscripts bigger than her. He was _right_ —she _is_ a bookworm. It’s warmth crawling over his fingertips as her eyes greedily devour the aesthetic in front of her, walking over to the atlas her fingers brush a metal protractor and some old knickknacks.

“Hokage-sama will never get rid of me,” Shikamaru sees an ancient version of _war games_ sitting innocently on a nearby desk, “Are those real jade?”

_I have yellow notebooks._

Sakura blinks and asks aloud, “Yellow notebooks?”

“What?” Shikamaru asks confusedly.

“Minato has yellow notebooks,”

Glancing at the dark-rimmed scrolls, green notebooks, and bright red stamped papers that are messily thrown over the place, he sighs, “It shouldn’t be that hard to find, I guess. Everything here is of darker colors, for discretion probably.”

_Why did you choose yellow?_

Minato flushes with sheepishness, _I have blonde hair._

Sakura pauses mid-step and turns to look at him abruptly. Green eyes flicker over to his ghostly form in disbelief, _that’s it?_

Somehow, she expects more from him. _Konoha’s Yellow Flash_ uses only yellow notebooks because he has _blonde_ hair. Honestly, she thought he would have a little more depth, judging by the quite flicker of his wounded face; he doesn’t particularly like that fleeting thought.

“I found it,” Shikamaru’s lazy drawl fills up the air of the ancient archive, she nestles her way through a jutting stack of what looked like old budget finances and leaps over a table of seals.

“That was fast,” Sakura comments with surprise.

“The notebooks are yellow, Sakura,” he rolls his eyes.

She frowns, but didn’t say anything otherwise, “Well, what does it say?”

“It’s a bunch of ninjutsu equations,” Shikamaru flips through the book, “I think it’s for the rasengan.”

“Ah,” Sakura makes a noise of understanding, she takes a seat next to the window and grabs the right stack, “I’ll start with the side, you can take the left.”

“Yes, Sakura-sama,” Shikamaru makes a noise between a squeak and yelp; he did not expect her kick.

 _There’s a notebook about the Hiraishin and space-time theories—it’s fuller than the others. It should have an outline for the scroll I made in Whirlpool,_ Minato adds in as he looks over the stacks of notebooks.

_Did it have black ink?_

He pauses, _I think?_

Sakura shakes her head and pulls out a notebook that’s in the third down on the towering stack.

_It’s that one._

“I think I got it, Shikamaru,”

Shikamaru looks over at her curiously, he scoots over towards her as she flips open the book. Minato’s handwriting was worse than Naruto’s ironically, she would like to think the Yondaime was as refined as the rumors made him out to be, but then again, if she _really_ thinks about it, she’s giving him a little too much credit.

“What the hell is _this_ —? Is this _chicken_ scratch?” Shikamaru asks incredulously, he tilts his closer to read the blurred kanji.

Sakura can’t help but laugh when she feels Minato’s embarrassment wash over her elbows, trailing like spider silk up her arms, “I’d expect this type of thing from Naruto.”

_…I was excited._

“…equating chakra, while simultaneously outputting yin chakra and then yang chakra,” The Nara clan head reads to himself and then he pauses, “This is Whirlpool dialect.”

Sakura looks over to where Minato would be sitting – next to her, a knee propped up against his head as they look over his things. He blinks, _what?_

He pushes himself closer, his eyes glancing over the kanji quickly and then he sighs, _Kushina had helped with the fūinjutsu part of the seal, she must have written the rest of the instructions in her native tongue—I didn’t have enough time to learn her dialect._

Sakura rubs the bridge of her nose and said, “Naruto’s mom wrote those notes, he doesn’t know how to translate it—I don’t know if Jiraiya-sama left any notes around, but,” she wrinkles her nose, “Whirlpool dialect is a lost language.”

Shikamaru groans when he finally realizes where she’s headed, “Now, I’m _really_ going to have to go through Tou-san’s things.”

—

“I need you to look over the guest list, sensei,” Sakura leans against the tree on team seven’s training grounds, she stretches her legs until she could feel her thighs burn.

“I shall have it done by this evening, Sakura-chan,” he gives her an eye crinkle.

She glares, “I’m serious, sensei. I only have a week left before the festival.”

“You’re sending invitations two weeks in advance?”

“I need them to RSVP,” she frowns.

Kakashi waved it off.

 _Even as Hokage, Kakashi is still apathetic,_ Minato snorts.

“I’m going to check on the other…stuff,” Sakura wrinkles her nose with distaste. Ino has been particularly adamant with decorations and flowers.

_It’s the atmosphere, Forehead!_

Sakura supposes she could understand, but she had left her teenage, wistful thoughts in the war and probably became a lot more jaded on frivolous things such as—ribbons and silk for one.

This time Kakashi makes a sound of interest, “What stuff is this?”

Sakura’s smile becomes sharp, “Feminine stuff.”

Minato’s sigh is like a heavy towel.

“Do tell, Sakura-chan,” Kakashi’s eyes crinkle again.

She stares at him blankly, “Decorations, sensei. What did you think I was talking about?”

Kakashi’s smile behind his mask morphs into a lecherous one, his coal eyes glitter and he props his elbows onto his desk, “ _Well_ —”

“On second thought,” she interrupts him, voice taking on a no-nonsense tone, “I don’t want to know.”

He pouts, “You take the fun out of everything.”

Sakura raises a thin pink brow, “You’re Hokage.”

“And the sky is blue, the grass is green,” Kakashi says simply, he leans his head into his palm, “But does that mean I shrivel up and die?”

“Well, you’re halfway there,” Tsunade interrupts, she walks in and slams the door shut. Crossing her arms over her chest, she huffs, “I made you my successor so you can run the village, not so you can read your damn books while your students run around on doing your dirty work for you.”

Sakura snorts at the irony.

“None of that sass, Sakura,” Tsunade smiles knowingly, “I received a tip that Sasuke did a little more than _swindle_ the two Daimyos.”

Kakashi groans, a headache begins to pulse beneath his left eye, “What did he do _now_?”

“Well,” the blonde pauses, “Both Daimyos agreed for their children to have an arranged marriage with each other.”

The Hokage nearly gasps.

Sakura’s eyes widen, “What?”

Tsunade snorts, “That’s what I said when I heard that too. The Uchiha somehow managed to get the two Daimyos – the Daimyos that _despise_ each other – to arrange their children’s marriage so they can help strengthen their bond between the two villages. Politically of course. The foreign policy act was just an incentive.”

“So this could either be really, really bad,” Sakura starts, then she looks over at her sensei, “Or really, really good.”

Kakashi looks at her and orders, “Send invitations to the Daimyos.”

She stares at him warily, “You know we have to invite all the Daimyos if we invite two.”

He nods.

Sakura sighs, “Yeah, like I’d expect anything else. Should I add in any foreign ministers as well?”

“I’m sure the Daimyos will bring their entire entourage with them.”

“Wonderful,” she deadpans, “I’m going to have to up the quantity of food and drinks now,” she pauses mid-thought, “I hope the budget will cover it.”

Kakashi replies slowly, “Sakura, if you need any more…”

She waves it off, “Yeah—Yeah, I know.”

 _Do we still have the emergency funds?_ Minato chimes in.

Sakura furrows her brows, _we used up our funds after the war. Restructuring and renovation. We accumulated a small amount due to the influx of scouting missions, but other than that it’s quite small. We can’t afford to spend any more money._

“—kura. Sakura!” Tsunade appears in front of her, her fingers snapping in front of her face, “Are you alright?”

Emerald eyes blink, “What? I was just thinking. Did Shikamaru come to see you?”

“Shikamaru?” The Fifth frowns, “No, why? He said he had to dig through some archives.”

“He said something about Whirlpool dialect,” Sakura purposefully sounds vague, not wanting to give away too much information, just in case. Sometimes irrelevant details are just as important as the real ones.

“Whirlpool…?” Kakashi murmurs with narrowed eyes.

“Jii-chan may have some scrolls somewhere,” Tsunade says thoughtfully.

“I was going to give you a more formal report when Shikamaru found more information, sensei,” Sakura offers her former teacher, she feels slightly bad for keeping him out of the loop, but things just kept happening. If it’s not about the hospital, it’s about Minato and if it’s not about Minato, it’s about the festival.

The Hokage waves it off, “I know you’re busy, Sakura-chan. Don’t burn yourself out.”

Sakura resists the urge to roll her eyes.

—

“I think you’re ready,” Sakura checks her chart and gives her knee a light tap. She smiles tiredly, “We can start the procedure today if you’re up for it.”

Yuki stares at her, “Will it work?”

She’s skeptical and Sakura couldn’t blame her.

“Eighty-eight percent,” she tells her and glances at her legs, “At most, all you will feel is a little tickle, but even if it doesn’t work,” she smiles again, “At least we tried.”

Yuki giggles, “You don’t give up do you, Sakura-sama?”

Sakura chuckles, “Not really.”

“It’s okay if I have to stay in a wheelchair,” she says quietly, “I don’t mind.”

Being complacent is an adult thing, Sakura used to think. Not worrying about the future because your future was the next day, but the illusion between childhood and adulthood was more of a presence sort of thing. To think about the future, because you want to avoid the past, made you forget about the present.

Because the future was never really certain.

Sakura clears her throat and stands up. She begins, “We can start whenever you want. I won’t push you but think about it Yuki. You never know what might happen.”

She leaves Yuki in her room with nothing but her thoughts.

 _She’s not going to do the procedure?_ Minato asks with wide eyes.

Sakura shrugs, she’s disappointed, but she not surprised. _I don’t know. She’s a kid and it’s her body. I can only guide her, but I can’t tell her what to do or force her to do something she wants._

It’s not like Yuki had parents or a guardian for that matter to tell her what to do. Orphans are always tricky. It isn’t because of the subject at hand, it’s because they didn’t have anyone to turn to for advice. Sakura would’ve liked to think, that if she leaned on her, she would, in some way, come to a conclusion.

 _She’s a child,_ Minato points out.

 _Even so,_ Sakura shrugs again, _Suffocation is one of the worst ways to live._

In hindsight, this conversation probably isn’t the most important ones, they’ve had up to date. Yuki, two hours later, wheels into her office and gives her consent for the operation. While it delights Minato, Sakura feels the slightest bit wary, because what, caused her to change her mind. She wouldn’t question it now, she would wait until she’s in recovery to have a talk with her.

Hinata had come in to give a consultation later and then took a brief glance at her chakra network. She gave Sakura the okay and told her that she would be down the hall, should she need another pair of eyes. It still didn’t matter, because Sakura called her in any way.

“Just tell me if anything in her chakra network moves or I don’t know,” Sakura pauses to look over at Yuki’s legs, “If _something_ happens.”

Hinata nods, “Her reserves are deep enough,” her lips twists and then inquires softly, “She should be fine.”

“I know,” she breathes.

_I just need to make sure._

Minato observes, quietly, like a hum in the back of her mind. Sakura never did anything by halves, she is thorough and she is calm, but still, she worries. After her hands form the tiger hand seal, she jumps straight to dog and then to ram. Minimizing the lightning ninjutsu is her main concern. Her chakra, when it comes to elemental ninjutsu is always shaky at best, but then it stabilizes. It isn’t like she’s pulling chakra into her hands or focusing chakra – raw chakra – into the palms of her hands, or her feet, or to a mobile part of her body – excluding her hair because what really is the _point_? – she’s pouring chakra into hand-seals.

Lightning, bright like the salt in the wind, when the sun hits it just a certain way and it looks silver — it’s blinding, but it isn’t gold, no, it burns hotter.

_Blue lightning._

Minato speaks, _cut your chakra in half, it’s too hot._

It’s not normal is what he means to say.

Sakura eases off the chakra, pulling it beneath her elbows and the brightness dims into a straw-colored gold.

She licks her lips and instructs to no one in particular, “Watch her pressure.”

And she presses.

It’s a mental thing, the steps she does. Whenever she did surgeries or rehab or sometimes when she worked on poisons, her mind, it would flow – Tsunade-shishou had called it the _stream of consciousness_ – sometimes it was instructions, sometimes it was words, and sometimes it was things that were relevant to the situation—but, to Sakura, it was like an audiobook of connectors.

_Seep into the skin, drop into the bones, sink into marrow, and swim. Find the blood. Disperse. Push and pull. Nerves are buried in the pathway. Search for fibers. Nerves? Coat. Spray the frayed edges. Tug. Coat. Axons. Synapses. Paint with lightning. Slow and gentle. Rough carpet. Slippery silk. Slip and slide. Now, pull._

_Next leg._

_Repeat._

Sakura is like a machine.

_Rinse. Coat. Spray. Seep into the skin, drop in the bones, sink into the marrow, and swim. Pull the lightning. Spiral. Twist and twist the ribbon and curl beneath fingers._

Minato’s spine stands ramrod straight as her conscience speaks visible words to her. Reminders. Pulling her attention to different areas of the leg. Sometimes they are repetitive other times they are like pictures. Her eyes are closed as she does these, he notices. She doesn’t open her eyes as she shifts the lightning below her knee. She feels the systems with her hands and pictures them with her brain.

It’s almost like photographic memory.

Sakura yanks the lightning from her patient’s legs and snaps the lightning like a twig; like a switch and she unclips it with the swift flick of the wrist.

“How’s it looking, Hinata-chan?” Sakura speaks for the first time in an hour, her voice is dry, but her eyes steady.

“Her chakra network is untouched, there was a slight change at the end, but that’s most likely from the sudden removal of lightning,” she reports and then scribbles something on the clipboard, “But it looks all right.”

“Good,” she sighs and then gives a lop-sided smile, “I’m tired.”

A week later, when Yuki’s physical therapy starts to really take root, Sakura pays her visit. She takes a seat on the bench closest to the vending machine. Emerald eyes take in the slight wobble in her step, the way she clenches her crutch tighter, but makes her way over to her without fail.

“Yuki-chan,” she greets,

“Sakura-sama!” Yuki smiles and takes a seat next to her, “I thought you weren’t coming until tomorrow?”

Sakura shrugs, “I got excited.”

She laughs.

Minato takes a seat on the other side of her.

“So, how does it feel to use your legs again?”

Yuki thinks for a minute, “I get tired really easily, but Koga said that if I practice a lot then I would be able to play tag with him.”

Sakura’s eyes widen. A memory or a mental note in the back of her head pops, like a soap bubble. It answers her unasked question. She makes a sound, “So, Koga-kun is being nicer to you?”

She shrugs, a furrow in between her brows, “Sometimes. He told me before I said yes to the sur-gery,” she says the word childishly, “That he had one too.”

“A surgery?” Sakura asks even though she already knew the answer.

“For his arm,” Yuki explains and sighs, “He said it took a long time, but he was glad he did it. He said it sounded scary at first, but,” she shrugs again, “But he had to be brave and—weren’t you his doctor, Sakura-sama?!”

Sakura tries not to smile, “Yes. I was his doctor. He was scared, but he said if got his arm fixed, he would be able to draw with you.”

Yuki’s eyes widen.

Sakura pats her head, “I think you guys are going to be great friends.”

—

“I think, I’m going to die,” Sakura groans dramatically, slumping against the coffee table of her living room.

“Puh-lease forehead,” Ino snorts, she reshuffles the papers, “It’s not that bad. I mean, you did most of the work.”

“I mean what else do I have to do?” she demands, narrowing her eyes at the annoying stack of checked papers, she throws herself at her sofa and rolls over, “Somehow this feels anticlimactic.”

“Well you did plan this whole event in three weeks,” the blonde points out, “I’m surprised you stayed sane this whole time. I mean Kakashi-sensei threw this at you pretty late.”

Sakura huffs, a jade orb looks over at her lazily and grumbles, “I’m pretty sure he did that on purpose.”

“He needs to get laid.”

A pause.

“I think I need to scrub my ears with soap,” she twists her nose, “Please, stop.”

Ino rolls her eyes.

“Back to the subject at hand,” Sakura shifts her attention back to the stack of papers, “The festival starts _tomorrow_ and I don’t know if I — missed something? Or? I don’t know.”

“What’s to miss?” Ino raises a brow and lifts the clipboard, “Flowers, food, music, decorations, stalls, supplies, we even have live entertainment from kids and performers from the international school in the eastern district. What about hospitality and accommodation?”

Sakura snaps her fingers, in an effort to wake up her brain and she groans, “The Hyuuga and Nara clan are taking care of that. They have some lodging within the compounds. The Hyuuga clan also owns lands off the compound—no way I’m going to let some obsessive kekkai genkai shinobi in close quarters with them. The Daimyos and their entourage are being placed in hotels near the Hokage Tower.”

“Okay,” Ino checks that off, “What about for the kids?”

“The Aburame and Lee clans are in charge of running the entertainment part,” Sakura suddenly remembers, “We’re running it like the how we did in the autumn. You know with fireworks, catching fishes in nets, breaking bottles — those types of things.”

“Right, right,” she hums and her pen taps each entry, “Uh, I really don’t know what you’re missing, forehead.”

Sakura groans.

Minato, who is sitting on the floor in front of her, looks over at the papers and scratches the back of his head, _I think I took my assistant for granted._

She rolls her eyes, _let me guess. You never threw a party._

 _Even my wedding_ _wasn’t this complicated,_ he says.

_Didn’t you have an event planner? I would think as Hokage…_

Minato thinks about it, _actually, Jiraiya-sensei and Kushina did most of the planning. I just had to show up._

Sakura glares at him.

“What?” Ino speaks suddenly.

Sakura blinks, “Expense sheet.”

Ino grimaces, “Couldn’t you get when of the bank officials to do those?”

She looks at her.

“Right—right, government stuff has to be done by the government,” the blonde sighs.

“I mean, an advisor would be nice,” Sakura points out, “But I doubt sensei would give me one unless I ask for it. I mean I don’t _mind_ planning the festival,” she wiggles her toes into a pillow, “I just would’ve liked a heads-up.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Ino nods, she places the papers into a pile, “Like today, Chouji asked me out.”

“To what?” she says absently.

“To dinner,” she pauses for emphasis and then waves her hands in distress, “ _Alone_! I mean,” the blonde begins to sound hysterical now, “I don’t think of Chouji like that you know, I mean we grew up together. Since we were infants!”

“I don’t think he meant it like that, Ino,” Sakura replies, she glances over at the schedule for tomorrow, “Did he invite Shikamaru?”

“Yeah, but he was busy or something,” Ino thinks for a minute, “I think he was going through his dad’s things.”

She looks up and nods, “Kakashi-sensei wanted him to look into something,” then she tilts her head, “I think you’re looking into this a little too much. I mean, what would Sai say?”

Sakura pauses at that and shakes her head, “Actually, I don’t _want_ to know.”

Ino giggles at that, “Yeah I don’t want to know either.”

“Ugh, I just remembered,” the chief of medicine groans, “I have to organize a greeting system for the arrivals at the village gates and the immigration center or it’s going to be swamped.”

“Let me take care of that, forehead,” Ino replies and stands up from her spot, “I’ll assign some chunin to the gates and organize some fanfare with genin from my clan.”

Sakura sighs and gives her a small smile, “Thanks Ino. Take the attendee sheet and send a copy to sensei. Just write down the numbers and I’ll deal with it later.”

She waves it off, “I _know_ how to throw a party, greetings are just a small thing,” she frowns, “Just get some rest, Sakura. You look like hell.”

“I feel like it,” she huffs, “I’ll be fine. Just need some ice cream and a nap or something.”

Ino gives her a sympathetic look, “One of those days, huh?”

“Sasuke’s coming tomorrow,” Sakura feeds her, she places all the sheets into a stack and stands up as well. Walking to the kitchen, she puts up a pot of tea, “I think I’m going to keep him on rotation for security and then switch him with Kiba for the second half of the night. Not _everyone_ is happy with him.”

“I can imagine,” Ino grimaces and slips on her sandals, “I’ll get this done before noon, I’ll swing by to pick you up tomorrow.”

“Thanks, pig!” Sakura calls out as she shut the door.

Minato appears on a stool in front of her island and he comments, “She’s effective.”

“She is,” she agrees, “She’ll bitch a little, but she’s very helpful. When it comes to parties and planning, she’s like insurance,” she pours some water into her teacup, “Ino is a perfectionist when it comes to things like that.”

“You’re not?”

Sakura considers that and stirs her tea, “I don’t think so. Not when it comes to parties and social stuff. Those things will be good no matter what. I think when it comes to policies and jutsu, I’m a bit of perfectionist there. Everything has to be detailed and organized because it just has too? Tsunade-shishou had told me that a clear space, is a clear mind,” she chuckles, “If she would only follow her own advice.”

Minato smiles at that, “I used to be like that. A perfectionist. Everything had to be perfect,” his elbows dug into the counter, “I planned for everything. I had multiple contingency plans. I was idealistic.”

“It’s not a bad thing,” Sakura clarifies, “To be idealistic.”

Blue eyes flickers from her teacup to the window and Minato agrees, “No, it’s not. But sometimes you lose sight of what’s in front of you.”

“What do you mean?” she sips her tea.

“I planned for everything. I made sure everything would go a certain way and expectations would follow through,” he explains, “But it was just that. I planned, but I didn’t live? I just kept going and I didn’t enjoy what I had because I was looking at the big picture,” his answer is vague, his voice is different, like he’s here but not here at the same time, “In the end things, never did play out the way I wanted it too.”

_Regret._

She feels it.

Sakura shakes her head, “I think you’re being a little too hard on yourself,” she doesn’t want to comfort him and make it _weird._ Instead, she attempts to be honest, “No one could ever predict the future – what we went through. No one could have. Bonds and relationships? Those things, have a mind of their own. No matter how twisted they are, we can’t be sure of where they might end up. I mean, look at Naruto.”

She can feel Minato looking at her.

“He made friends with the whole damn world,” she shakes her head, “They were days, he told me when he didn’t know what to do. What to do next. How to act. All he knew was that he had to keep going. To push past his pain and move forward,” she looks at him, “You can’t play god.”

_Not even Naruto could be a god._

Sakura’s voice is bronze, like antiques and liquid, like copper, “No one, is invulnerable.”


	6. equinox

“Wake up, Forehead!” Ino’s voice rings in collusion with a stream of muffled banging – her fists – she assumes, raps against her door continuously, “Aren’t you, hosting?”

Sakura’s brain is muddled with the thickness of a dark heavy sleep, stuttering in processing. She blinks hazily, when the words register in her brain, she groans deep in her throat and nestles herself back into her blankets, but Ino’s voice is like a beacon on the darkest day…or the shrieking of a pelican in the midst of a hurricane, “Go _away_.”

Ino’s voice shifts to a giggly, obnoxious tenor and she sings, “You’re wanted, _Haruno-sama_.”

Minato materializes beside her, even he manages to look sleepy, he twists his face and looks at her, “Are you?”

Sakura buries her face into her pillows and her voice is muffled, “No. I quit. I’m staying in my bed and not moving.”

Ino snorts against the door, “Unlikely. Get _up_ , we have to greet all the high-rank officials and then Hokage-sama wants to see you.”

Sakura grumbles something incoherent into her pillow. She shifts her weight to her knees and arches upwards into a stretch. Huffing, she quickly falls back on her haunches and rubs her eyes, “Damn it.”

Minato groans and rolls over.

When she stumbles out of bed, eyes half-clear, she grabs a fresh roll of clothes that she left last night on her chair next to her desk. Things, in a nutshell, became almost mundane. Sakura could barely remember when Minato fell into her or maybe it was the other way around. A month, roughly, if she has to think about it. It’s no different than having a conscience, except he has free will—she shakes her head minutely as she walks into her bathroom. That’s something she has to think about _later._

As a spirit – if the term is correct – he hasn’t been very _nosy_. She had expected probing, the tight, migraine-brewing focus, that made her eyes throb and her temples pulse. But Minato is like water, everywhere she didn’t want him to be, and it isn’t like a pinprick scrutiny, it’s more of a quiet observation. Unraveling, it thrums beneath her fingertips, tangles into chakra, and simmers.

She was also going to ignore the fact, that perhaps, Minato fell asleep in her bed.

Tossing her toothbrush into her cup, she splashes some water onto her face and slaps her face to give it some color. Her diplomatic ensemble consists of black velvet shinobi pants, a deep red, silk, high-neck armless blouse, that cut just beneath her navel, and flows behind her like a river. Green imprints of leaves stitched on the left side of her top that travels to the cut of her blouse.

Tying her ambassador armband to her right bicep, she gives her long hair a quick brush – even though Ino would prod at it as soon as she steps foot out of her bathroom – and heads towards the door.

“I’m up,” Sakura sighs, “You _better_ have breakfast.”

“I got cake and coffee,” Ino pulls out an assortment of cakes from a bakery downtown, “I think there’s a couple of chocolate tarts too.”

“Oh thank _God_ ,” she shoves a tart into her mouth and hums at the bitterness of the cacao. Sugar and caffeine, just what she needs to get through the day.

“Hey,” Ino frowns, “Don’t mess up your clothes, do you know how _long_ it took me to find that top—silk too? Four days! As much as I love custom clothing,” she refers to her blue blouse with green leaf stitching, “Finding tailors this close to the event was cutting it.”

“I’ll be sure sensei gets the message,” Sakura snaps a strawberry off of a sponge cake, “Coffee?”

“With soy milk,” the blonde hands her a carton, “Just tell me: _I’m a great friend_.”

“You’re a great friend, pig,” she replies disingenuously and sips her coffee, “Seriously after you left—I had so much _work_ to do.”

“I thought you finished all the preparations—stop moving,” Ino’s lips twists, as she brushes Sakura’s hair, spraying a wet oil at the ends, “All you had to do was the expense sheet and something else, right?”

She grabs a blackberry tart that’s filled with lemon cream, cracking the shell with her fork, she answers, “I had some reports to fill out. Some for the hospital and then some were for Kakashi-sensei. Tsunade-sama had me go through some things too.”

Tugging Sakura’s hair into a small bun, Ino pulls a few strands to frame her face, and inquires, “What things?”

 _She’s fishing,_ Minato interrupts her brain.

The banter and ease of the conversation is what lulled Sakura into a false sense of security, she twists her fork into the cream, a deliberate movement that makes her seem absentminded, “Some scrolls for a chakra swap — I think I sent you the file on Yuki.”

It’s not exactly a lie.

Ino thinks back, “Yeah,” she winces, “Sorry, I haven’t looked at it. My team is a handful.”

Sakura chuckles, “It’s fine. How is your team?”

Ino grabs her plate and places it back on the counter. Grabbing a powder, she swirls the compact with a kabuki brush, “It’s going. They kind of remind me of Gai-sensei’s team.”

Minato winces.

“Oh _no_ ,” she gasps into a laugh, “You have a little Lee don’t you?”

“Worse—close your eyes, ” Ino scowls and grabs the eyeliner, “A _Neji_.”

Sakura giggles, “You have your work cut out for you.”

“I swear I’m this close to wringing his neck,” she mutters, flicking out the wing, she buffs out the eyeshadow on her lash line, “Why did they stick me with a Hyuuga anyway?”

“Experience?”

“And what experience is that?”

Sakura rolls her eyes as her blonde bud pats her down with blush and sips her coffee, “Pretty boys.”

Ino pauses, her hand hangs in mid-air, and then she continues to rummage into her bag, “You know, you may be onto something,” she ignores her smirk, “Now hush, let me finish.”

With Ino’s skills, it takes a few moments, then she leans back and smiles in acceptance, “Alright, forehead. Let’s go.”

—

“Kazekage-sama,” Sakura bows before Gaara and then smiles, “It is a pleasure to have you in the Leaf.”

Gaara motions for the guards to scatter, then he takes a seat on the couch and rolls his eyes, “I think you’re spending a little too much time in the Hokage Tower, Sakura.”

She breathes a laugh, “Honestly, I think I agree with you.”

The door opens revealing the other two sand siblings, Kankuro comes at her first, “Sakura!” he pulls her into a hug, “How are you doing?”

“Hands off, puppet-boy,” Temari snorts and tugs her until she sits on the couch next to her, “I apologize for him, Sakura. He’s been itching to leave Suna.”

Sakura chuckles and Minato materializes next to her. He sits perch on the arm of the couch and glances at her with surprise. She asks, “Why is that?”

“Because the council is pressuring us to find a suitor,” Kankuro grumbles and plops down next to her, “I have better things to do, you know?”

Emerald eyes stare, “For…you?” then she flickers her gaze over to Gaara, who scowls and she gasps dramatically, “ _No_.”

Gaara sighs, “Sakura.”

“Oh, _c’mon_ ,” Sakura laughs at the tone of his voice, “You knew this was going to happen sooner or later.”

“I was hoping…for the latter,” he says dryly.

“Do you have anyone in mind?” the head-medic asks good-naturedly, her blouse pooling around her like fire, “I could ask around…”

Temari bites the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing, instead, she looks at her pointedly and then raises a thin brow.

Sakura hears the warning bells before she sees them. Quickly, she snaps that train of conversation before they could delve onto a more personal level. Clearing her throat, she goes on, “Anyway—”

 _I didn’t realize you were so well sought after, Sakura_ , Minato sounds almost mocking.

“—I came to give you the official schedule for the next three days,” Sakura places the pamphlets on the table, “I will be your representative for the Leaf for the duration of your stay. If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

“The hospital?” Kankuro smirks.

“With Naruto?” Temari counters.

Gaara stares blankly at their banter.

“About,” Sakura glares half-heartedly, “Or with sensei.”

“Hatake still yanking your chain?”

Temari slaps the back of Kankuro’s head.

Sakura sighs, “Anyway,” she stands up, “I’ll see you guys tonight. I assigned a genin team to run your errands or if you need a guide—though, I doubt you guys need one.”

“We appreciate the sentiment, Sakura,” Gaara nods his head, “Shizune-san is in the Hokage’s office if you would like to see her.”

Sakura waves it off, “Maybe later,” rolling her shoulders, she walks to the door and gives him a look, “I have a _long_ day.”

It takes free will to prevent her from jumping out the window, diplomacy takes patience and a blank face. The inn, for some reason, feels like a maze, it twists and it turns. When she finds the reception area, nods at the secretary slides the door open, and inhales the sunlight—she inhales deep enough to open the synapses in her brain.

“Well,” Minato appears next to her and smiles wryly, “That was exciting.”

“Your comments are unnecessary,” Sakura points out with irritation, “Gaara and I go way back.”

“The chunin exams, right?”

“Yes,” she looks at him strangely, “But how do you—Naruto told you?”

“He didn’t have to,” Minato answers cryptically, “I find it fascinating that you can talk to him that easily, seeing how he almost killed you.”

Then it _clicked._

Sakura demands, “How much of my memory did you see?”

He winces, his face smoothens, eyebrows knotting in a way that reminds her of Naruto, he replies slowly, “I didn’t mean to…when you sleep your subconscious sort of flickers.”

“What do you mean?” she frowns.

“It’s like a film cartridge, your memories are spun and sometimes they disappear,” he continues as they walked down the village path, “Sometimes I hear voices and then other times it’s like I’m right there watching.”

Sakura’s lips thin.

“It’s not like I’m diving into your memory bank,” Minato inserts quickly, “I think you would feel that.”

To be honest, she’s not sure _what_ she would feel.

“Probably,” she comments vaguely, “But you still didn’t answer the question. How much of my memory did you see?”

“I don’t really know,” Minato answers honestly, “It’s bits and pieces. I remember seeing a cat—Tora I think.”

She breathes a laugh, a thrill that clicks against the roof of her mouth and replies, “Oh. _That._ ”

Adjustment. In hindsight, it’s better for her to accept that Minato had practically leeched onto her like a set of slugs. She’s human and there are parts of her life she doesn’t want _anyone_ to see. That’s just how it is. Feeling vulnerable and being it too, it’s just simply unacceptable.

It gets harder to hide things from him, her entire life, her goal had been the pursuit of power, in search of strength, and part of it, unfortunately, was Sasuke. When she looked back at how far she came, how far she had run, it was almost childish and embarrassing. She partly blamed her mental state – the entirety of Konoha Eleven’s mental state as well.

They were _kids_ —adolescents, fighting in a stagnant war.

Sakura had been chasing Sasuke for years and years. Sasuke left on his own accord, he left without a care, and part of her, part of her wanted to believe that he left to protect her. In some screwed up, damsel in distress, novel-like intricate part, that he left because he thought, in his own fucked up rhetoric, that, that was his only option.

But Sakura is almost twenty-one now and when she looks back at her own reasonings; she is surprised no one had ever scolded her or confronted her about her own illusions. Some part of her is grateful for Sasuke because he put her in a position where she had to find herself.

However, does that justify her own dreams of wanting Sasuke to come back to the village?

To find the answer to that question, she turned to Hinata. Hinata who grew up within a strict, tightly-knit clan, with an even more rigid upbringing as heir. She grimaced and said, “There were times when I wanted to run away. Neji-nii-san was the same. A caged bird. We wanted to make our own decisions and live by our own rules, but clans don’t work that way. We were trapped. If I had a chance to leave I’d take it,” she inhaled deeply here, “I know it’s selfish of me, but when had anyone ever asked me what _I_ wanted?”

Sakura, in turn, mulled over their conversation.

Even if they managed to bring Sasuke back, what good would it do, if he was just going to try and leave again?

She had chased Sasuke for years; he was her dream.

Naruto had also chased Sasuke, but to him, it wasn’t a dream. His drive was made from desperation and ambition. He had no illusions. It was a goal and it was unacceptable for it to remain a dream because Naruto grew up in a world where the world was against him, he didn’t have the time to fancy ideas and planning. He took and he took and he ran.

Sakura was made up of ideals, thoughts, plans, and structure. Where one play fell apart, she had something to fall back on.

She had always been a genjutsu type, but could never truly dispel illusions, it was ironic, given that cognitive thought, analyzing and processing had always been in her strong suit.

Now, she was still the same.

She was still full of plans and ideals, but somewhere along the road, Naruto and Sakura’s drives had flipped.

Naruto’s head was full of dreams and wonderment because he truly did not understand what it meant to be at a disadvantage to have nothing and create something. She wouldn’t be as cruel to say that he didn’t understand what pain _was,_ but he didn’t know the feeling of insufficiency.

Sakura had to wonder if it was her logic that strengthened or her acceptance, that things will _never_ be the same.

Or maybe, she just grew up.

—

“Sensei,” Sakura pops her head in from the door, “Do you think—oh!”

Minato peers into the door above her.

“Mikan-sama,” she walks into the room slowly and bows lowly, “We were not expecting you for another hour.”

“Sakura-san,” the Daimyo greets her, his black hair tied tightly at the crown of his head and he inclines his head downward in recognition, “Our voyage was quicker than we initially believed it to be.”

“All is well,” she nods and smiles politely. Facing the Hokage, she asks, “I assume Sasuke is back as well?”

Kakashi nods, “At HQ. I can summon if you would like.”

Sakura shakes her head, “It’s fine. I need to go there anyway.”

Minato’s eyebrows furrow, _Something is strange._

Sakura’s jaw eases, _what do you mean?_

 _Kakashi has that look in his eye,_ Minato glances over to the Daimyo, _The same look where he watched Obito hide beneath a bush of poison ivy and said nothing._

Well, that couldn’t be good.

“Unless you needed me for something, Hokage-sama,” she waits for a moment. Contrary to belief, Sakura’s instincts are on par with Naruto’s. She knows she’s walking into the trap, but it would be better to walk into one knowingly, than blind.

 _Interesting tactic,_ Minato muses, _I can’t tell if it’s foolish or brave._

Sakura’s eyebrow almost twitches, _is there a difference?_

Minato’s laugh tickles the back of her eyelids.

“Actually, I was wondering Sakura-chan,” Kakashi starts and instantly she is wary of the next words that came out of his mouth, “If you would like to show Kisuke-sama the village.”

 _I’m going to kill him,_ Sakura’s jaw clenches.

She smiles nonetheless and asks, “A tour?”

“If you are not busy, Sakura-san,” Kisuke inclines his head politely before smiling, “I’d hate to inconvenience you.”

“I have some errands to run actually,” Sakura replies diplomatically, “I can take you to the village center and then to your accommodations,” she pauses before racking her brain for some more information, “I know from my last mission you have a keen interest in mochi with salt.”

The Daimyo approves, “You remembered,” he turns his head and gives a curt nod, “I will see you tonight then, Hokage-sama.”

And Kakashi smiles all _Kakashi-like_ , which is both unpredictable and alarming all at once.

“Shall we, Mikan-sama?”

“Kisuke please, Sakura-san,” Kisuke offers her the crook of his arm and she feels something like a muscle twitch at the back of her neck.

Sakura smiles demurely while Minato leans against the wall with a quirk of the eyebrow.

 _Idiot,_ and there is no way to tell if she directed that insult at herself, at the Daimyo, at Kakashi, at Minato, or at her life in general. She takes the arm of the Fire Daimyo and leads him out of the Hokage’s Tower.

Diplomacy, is like pulling teeth. Sakura has enough experience dealing with political leaders, but that doesn’t mean she has to like it. She had the privilege of meeting the Fire Daimyo three years ago. She was summoned to the Great Hall to heal his daughter who had been suffering from chronic mercury poisoning. One part of the picture, when it comes to healing people – a civilian in this case – was the healing itself, but the main issue lay in finding the source of the problem.

 _If you can find the source, you can stop the symptoms from breaching,_ Sakura thinks.

 _And if you can’t find it?_ Minato prods.

She frowns.

“Is something the matter, Sakura-san?” The Daimyo asks when he notices her change in mood.

“Nothing,” she shakes her head, “Just wondering how long Kakashi—er, Hokage-sama,” she corrects, “Will take at the meeting.”

“With the security procedures,” he fills in.

“Yes,” Sakura answers automatically and then blinks, “How did you know—”

“I am fairly versed in these types of matters,” Kisuke-sama’s eyes twinkle and he finishes dryly, “Parties.”

She chuckles, “I’d say so.”

After a few moments of enjoying the silence, Sakura directs him towards a stall that the Inuzuka clan holds. She waves at Hana from inside the stall, “Hana-san, how are you doing?”

“Sakura-san,” she tilts her head in greeting, a smile breaking into her face and she replies impishly, “We opened about an hour ago. The foreigners have yet to breach this side of the village. Though,” she grins, “The ronin have made their interest known.”

Minato coughs politely from the back of her head and she feels the vibrations in her fingers.

Sakura smiles thinly and presents, “Hana-san, I’d like to introduce you to the Fire Daimyo.”

Hana’s eyes widen before she gives a quick bow and greets, “Mikan-sama, I didn’t realize you would be attending the festival.”

Kisuke’s lips twist wryly, “Uchiha-san had extended the invitation, and I so graciously accepted.”

Sakura can hear the irritation brewing in the back of his throat, so she tosses in a segue way, “Mikan-sama has a particular interest in mochi with soy sauce. I know the Inuzuka clan has probably the best brews—”

“Yes,” Hana nods furiously before grabbing a box from the back of her stall, tosses in some extra nori and a small tub of soy sauce, “The Inuzuka clan has had distilleries for years, we ferment mostly soy sauce and rice wine.”

Sakura grabs a pair of chopsticks next to the window and hands it to the Daimyo. There is an irrational surge of jealousy that bubbles up in the pit of her stomach as she watches the Daimyo wrap the rice cake in a strip of nori and dips it into the soy sauce. It’s the scene itself that reminds Sakura of those old fairytales that her mother used to tell her when she had a nightmare and couldn’t go back to sleep.

Artistic and untouchable.

“Would you like a rice-cake, Sakura-san?” Mikan-sama inquires holding a piece of rice-cake in between his chopsticks.

Sakura almost blanches, “Ah, no thank you, Mikan-sama. I ate just before I visited.”

“Kisuke, Sakura-san,” The Daimyo chides gently.

Hana’s eyebrows raise.

“Force of habit,” she smiles politely.

 _The last time I saw Mikan-sama, he was a child,_ Minato decides to speak. _He was always outspoken and serious._

 _Is there a point to this conversation?_ Sakura almost raises a brow.

Minato rolls his eyes and Sakura’s palm itches.

 _He trusts you_ , he says.

 _I did save his daughter,_ Sakura points out, _It’s not a big deal._

Minato sighs, _Sakura you just bought yourself an ally._

 _I didn’t buy anything,_ she argues, _If anything, I bought loyalty._

“Would you like another box, Mi—Kisuke-sama?” Sakura asks after a few moments.

“Yes,” Mikan-sama nods, “My daughter also, has an interest in these.”

Sakura nods too

 _Like pulling teeth,_ Minato states amusedly.

—

“Well, that was interesting,” Sakura sighs, she takes a break underneath the big oak tree in training ground seven. She sips her iced tea and rolls her shoulders.

Minato takes a seat next to her, his Hokage robe – since when did have his Hokage robe? – blossoms around his hips and legs, and he asks, “Was it really?”

“I’ve only met the Daimyo on two missions,” she admits, “Once when his daughter was sick and the other was a diplomatic mission. I had to represent the civilian district.”

“As a shinobi?”

“The Haruno clan aren’t a shinobi clan,” Sakura explains, “Only my parents and a few, very distant relatives have joined the ranks. I just happen to be placed on a team…with very powerful people.”

“You do realize, you, are a powerful shinobi,” Minato points out.

She shrugs, “Semantics.”

He scowls, “ _Sakura_.”

“Yes, yes don’t do the whole _woe-is-me_ and self-pitying act,” Sakura waves it off and sips her tea, “Can’t help it, the bitter teen in me likes to make her appearance every once in a while.”

Minato sighs exasperatedly, “We’re going to have to work on that.”

“My self-esteem issues or my lack of skills?” Sakura’s lips quirk up with amusement.

He shoots her a dirty look.

“It’s not like I’m hiding it,” she retorts, flicking a few wayward strands from her face, she continues, “It’s basic knowledge that I’m a medic. Compared to my idiotic teammates, I’m just that girl who got lucky enough to make it past the Sannin mark.”

“You call that _luck_?” Minato inquires with minute disbelief, “Sakura,” he emphasizes with a wave of his hand, “Self-made shinobi.”

“Like you?”

“Yes,” he states bluntly, “I wasn’t born into a ninja clan and I don’t have any type of kekkai genkai, yet, somehow I still managed to become the Yondaime – as short as my reign was – and it had nothing to do with _luck_.”

Sakura stares at him with surprise.

“I worked hard, I studied even harder and I had a knack for coming up with complicated jutsu. I spent hours in the library learning the Second’s jutsu, rewriting ninjutsu equations, and learning to pick apart Whirlpool documents just so I had a better idea for fūinjutsu. I had to remain determined, acquire patience, perception and sometimes, I had to seek out advice,” Minato says passionately, “Luck doesn’t equate to talent, nor does birth.”

She has to say _something,_ it feels like mortification mixed with something uncomfortable, “Minato—"

“It upsets me when you say things like that, Sakura,” he presses his lips together and continues, “I realize part of the blame falls on me. I should’ve taught Kakashi better because he shouldn’t have neglected you like that.”

Sakura cannot come up with a quip that would somehow soften his polite scolding. Yes, Minato is right. Yes, luck doesn’t equate to skill, but at the same time, it’s hard to stop thinking that she’s second best. She spent years—years trying to catch up with her teammates, trying to find _some_ equal ground, but it always seemed like it wasn’t enough.

“Plus,” Minato adds in when she doesn’t speak, “When you become the _Pink Flash_ , well, you’ll have a _flee on sight_ mark in the Bingo Book.”

She sputters, “ _Pink Flash?”_ she blinks green eyes and shakes her head, “I’ve had the _flee on sight_ mark since I was fifteen.”

He blinks, “What?”

“When I was fifteen I killed Sasori of the Red Sand,” Sakura tells him and furrows her brows, “You know the Akatsuki? I thought Naruto told you or—it was explained to you during the war.”

“You were fifteen?”

She nods.

Minato laughs, “Sakura, I didn’t enter the books until I was eighteen. I certainly didn’t receive the _flee on sight_ warning until I was twenty, and by then I was already Hokage.”

“Oh,” Sakura chuckles hesitantly.

_Awkward._

—

“I hate coming here,” Sakura sighs, pushing past the kunai-proof tower, she heads into the Jounin HQ and walks past the lobby.

 _Why?_ Minato wonders, _It’s where all the Jounin are—weren’t most of them in your graduating class?_

 _Yep,_ Sakura confirms, _I just hate coming here because everyone is a little too—_

“Sakura-san!” Rock Lee appears in front of her, teeth shinier than the metal flint Sai keeps in his shinobi packs, “You look mighty youthful today!”

_—much._

Sakura greets him tiredly, “Hi Lee. I thought you would be in the village.”

“I was just about to leave!” He grins, “Gai-sensei has been giving me extra training! We’re almost up to five thousand push-ups in under five hours.”

“Lee that is not healthy,” Sakura scolds him, “You will end up hurting your liver and ripping your muscles. Your kidneys can only handle so much.”

“Not to worry, dear flower!” Lee nods, “I shall take breaks in between and drink…lots of water?”

Sakura glares at him.

“And rest every other day?”

She sighs, “Better.”

 _Youthful,_ The word leaves Minato’s mouth like sand, _He carries a torch for you?_

It is a statement, not a question.

_Since we were twelve._

Minato’s laugh tickles the back of her eyes.

“What are you doing here, Sakura-san?” Lee asks curiously, “I thought you would be at the hospital.”

She raises a brow at his sudden question.

He laughs nervously at the tick in her brow, “I-I just meant, you rarely come to HQ! It is an honor and a blessing for you to grace—”

“It’s fine Lee,” Sakura waves off his apology, “I’m just looking for my teammates.”

“Sasuke-san and Sai-san are on the third floor,” Lee says suddenly, “Would you like me to escort you?”

“No, it’s fine,” Sakura pauses, “Wait, Sai and Sasuke are there together?” she stares at him with disbelief, “ _Alone?”_

“Is that a bad thing?” Lee questions hesitantly.

 _No, but it could end in Sasuke Kirin-ing the hell out of Sai,_ Sakura thinks exasperatedly, she yanks the wayward strands of hair resting at the back of her neck in contemplation.

 _Did they get along that bad?_ Minato frowns.

 _Sai was Sasuke’s replacement,_ she explains and says a quick goodbye to Lee, _Sai came from Root so his human association skills are not the best, they’re better now, but there’s always that animosity between those two._

Sakura uses shunshin to reach the third floor in record timing.

 _Make sure to put a seal on the building before you leave,_ Minato advises.

_I’ve barely gotten down the basics of Hiraishin and you want me to put a mark on the building?_

Sakura opens the door to the recovery room. Sai sit next to the window, painting – she tries to peek from her peripheral vision – something. Sasuke sits on the sofa, sharpening a kunai with a twitch in his brow.

“Hey,” she greets causally.

 _Casual?_ Minato snickered.

 _Shut up,_ she hisses.

“Sakura,” Sasuke looks up briefly before looking back at his kunai.

“Ugly,” Sai greets, “What are you doing here?”

“I came to give you, your duties,” she answers slowly. Considering the time constraint she is under, she decides that it’s better to go the cleaner route than to go around the bend, “Sai, how do you feel about drawing nin and civilians for the festival? They’ll pay you, of course.”

“Pay me to draw?”

“Yes,” she nods, “I told the council that you’re art is quite beautiful, they’re willing to give you a booth near the Hokage Tower so you can draw now and tonight,” then she smirks, “Ino will be waiting.”

His eyes widen.

“That’s right,” Sakura sniffs, “Now up to it. She’s waiting in Shikamaru’s office.”

 _Sneaky Sakura,_ Minato chuckles.

Once Sai is out of the fray, Sakura turns to look at Sasuke and she says, “You’re on security rotation.”

He raises his brows, “With who?”

“Kiba,” she answers, “Lee will be joining you after midnight.”

“The council doesn’t want me in the village?” Sasuke smirks.

“No one wants you in the village,” Sakura states bluntly, “They don’t trust you. Which is why I’m keeping you away from the masses.”

“You mean you don’t trust me,” he presses, dark brows furrow but he waits nonetheless.

Minato stands behind her, a silent pillar of strength, but it’s a reminder. A reminder that she isn’t alone and if she is, to be honest, she isn’t sure if it’s a comfort or a punishment.

She straightens her shoulders and levels with him, “Yes.”

Chakra saturates the air, heavy in her breath and form. Sakura does not move. She pins him with green eyes, defiance tightening in her jaw and lips, “I don’t trust you. The village doesn’t trust you. The civilians don’t trust you. You would be a walking hazard if I let you into the festival unsupervised, where hundreds of foreign nin, civilians, political leaders, and ambassadors are loitering around. If they don’t know you by name, they know you by _sight._ ”

“I wondered when you would come clean with me,” Sasuke says with feigned nonchalance.

“Clean? Sasuke, I’m telling you the truth because I have no advantage in keeping it to myself,” Sakura tells him, “Moreover, after your rotations, you will be shadowing Kakashi-sensei when he goes into the summit.”

“We’re having a summit?”

“Essential shinobi and high-ranking political leaders are invited,” she answers, “Tomorrow.”

“Hn. So I have to attend?”

“I said you’re _shadowing_ ,” she emphasizes, “You’re not allowed in.”

Sasuke frowns, “How am I supposed to shadow if I’m not allowed in the room?”

“Figure it out,” Sakura shrugs and makes her way to the door.

“Are you allowed in the room?” Sasuke’s haughty voice forces her to turn her head.

Minato’s thumb and index finger squeeze the pressure points at the back of her neck, tension falling off her shoulders like running water.

Sakura quirks a brow, emerald orbs glint like silver and cobalt, and she uses her thumb to indicate to her person, “ _Essential_ shinobi, Sasuke.”

Minato’s exhale washes the back of her neck in warm, steady waves.


	7. supernova

“Ugh,” Sakura groans when she finishes the last of her yakisoba, “I _so_ do not want to go to this summit.”

“It’s not really a summit,” Minato corrects her from the left, his foot crosses over his ankle and his back is flat against the tree, “It’s more of a meeting.”

“A poorly disguised peace talk,” she affirms, loosening the knot of her bun at the base of her neck, she scratches the back of her scalp furiously, “I don’t think I have the energy to deal with all of this.”

“You were admirably earlier,” he points out casually, “The Daimyo is a good person to keep in your circle.”

“Wealth and power,” Sakura comments, her fingers trace the shadows of leaves on the branches of the trees above her and said, “They say if it is to your advantage make a forward move; if not, stay where you are. Shikamaru may be able to pull some strings when it comes to the political aspect of summits, but not everyone is happy about the outcome of the war.”

“There will always be countries looking to create conflict,” Minato nods at her line of thought, “The best we can do is manage it. You have friends in high places, Sakura. Don’t be afraid to use them.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” she huffs and fidgets under the lights of the lantern, “Peace talks are just so _boring_ and I hate that I said that out loud.”

He manages to look both amused and shrewd at the same time, “Boring?”

“I mean it’s a good thing, but you have to talk carefully. Speak carefully, act carefully, and smile. I hate putting on a show,” Sakura explains to that notion to him as if he’s a small child.

“Words can be a weapon,” Minato points out subtly, he quirks a brow at her eye-roll, “The weight of it, how sharp the tone is and whom it’s directed towards.”

“Tedious,”

“Quite.”

The thing is, summits, while more of a meeting rather than a series of debates, comes down to the language and what is left unspoken. Tensions have eased because of Naruto – he’s still taking in his war-glory – but there is still a lot of fallout that most people don’t see, and so it is up to the Hokage and their saplings to clean it up. It’s a pain though, Sakura thinks, Shikamaru would have told her it’s _troublesome._

And she would be inclined to agree.

The Kage summit, much to everyone’s surprise, is in the conference room in the Hokage Tower. The big one, where there are windowless windows, dark oak, and glimmering closed-circuit lanterns embedded in the ceiling. It’s a chakra-secure room, fibers of tripwire are tangled in the sheetrock of the walls. It’s a precautionary measure, one that Shikamaru had thought of when the paper-seal bombing terrorist attack came out in the open and they had to dismantle the entire village before the seals activated.

The only downside of this conference room is that it’s on the first floor. A higher vantage point is better for security, it’s an ease on the mind and of convenience. However, with the number of kage and ambassadors within the room, it’s the only conference room that’s big enough to fit that amount of nin.

“You know, Hokage-sama,” Mei’s eyes twinkle underneath the dim lighting, her fingers brush the edges of Kakashi’s Hokage robes, “I’m really liking the white robes.”

Sakura’s nose twitches in distaste. Mei is quite a Kage, but her quips sometimes make the pink-haired medic a bit uncomfortable. Kakashi even has the nerve to look abashed at the compliment – or non-subtle flirting – and waves it off, “You have to thank Sakura-chan for that, she made sure I had them dry-cleaned.”

“Oh, your protégé?” Mei raises her brows at that and pulls back to cock her hip out.

“I’d like to think of her as my lovelier replacement,”

Sakura gives him a look of such utter deadpan, that Mei has to laugh. The Mizukage whacks Kakashi on the shoulder in jest and takes her seat next to Gaara. Kakashi winces at the bone-bruise, but otherwise takes a seat at the head of the table.

 _Such a strange relationship,_ Minato comments behind her.

 _Mei-sama is in a word, eccentric,_ Sakura shrugs internally, _Tsunade-shishou likes her._

 _But you do as well,_ he points out with a chuckle.

 _I think she’s quite brilliant,_ she confesses.

“My protégé is Chojuro,” Mei points to the blue-haired teen who stands behind her, he has a heavy stance, but a gentle aura around him. There is something bashful about him when Sakura catches his eyes – she has met him very briefly, she remembers – his jaw is angular and strong all the same. A mess of contradictions. “Remember him?”

Sakura takes a chance and waves at him.

He flushes red and gives her a quick wave.

 _Does everyone like you?_ Minato stifles a chuckle and it feels like a tickle at the back of her ears.

 _He’s just shy,_ Sakura’s smile is strained because of his comment and she looks over at Gaara who gives her a quick nod.

“How can we forget Chojuro-kun?” Kakashi laughs lightly at that and Sakura can see him trying to put the pieces together.

“Jii-chan, couldn’t make it,” Kurotsuchi announces suddenly, her laugh borders on grating and it settles underneath Sakura’s skin like a serpent, “So, I’m here as his representative.”

“These kids are making us feel quite old, don’t you say Mei-sama?” Kakashi’s smile is tighter and Sakura almost breathes a huff, “Onoki-sama is already skipping out on the meetings.”

“My _jii-chan_ —”

“—everyone here?” Sakura makes a move to cut out her question just before her temper can get ahead of her, diffusing the situation, and ignoring the Tsuchikage’s form of a tantrum is in her best interest.

“Yes,” A new voice pops up, Darui enters the room with a drawl and a half-grin, “Can’t forget about the Raikage now can you?”

“Darui, you got the kageship?” Naruto exclaims suddenly, he runs over and gives him a high-five, “Seriously?”

“Is it such a surprise?”

Shikamaru rolls his eyes, drags his seat next to Sakura, who has a seat on Kakashi’s left, but she stands with her clipboard, “Seriously Naruto, he got promoted after the war.”

“A lot of things happened, Shikamaru!” he pouts and goes back to his the corner of the room, “Remember, I went with Sasuke to Sound after.”

Mei bristles at the name.

Sakura winces, _Dammit it Naruto._

“Why are you in the corner?” Darui quirks a brow at the weird position.

“He’s to dictate and scribe,” Kakashi smiles behind the mask, “His handwriting is atrocious.”

“That sounds like a punishment,” Shikamaru mutters under his breath and Sakura gives his chair a light kick.

“And it may also be because he _insulted_ the Daimyo—”

“—how was I supposed to know that was his _daughter?_ ”

“—you said she looked like a raccoon—”

“Are they always like this?” A familiar voice almost whispers into her ear, the hair on the back of her neck rises at the quiet voice, she could feel the brush of heat along her arm and Minato slips past her hindsight when she turns around.

Shī has sandy blonde hair that fans out like a flame and eyes dark as the night sky. He stands behind her, chest nearly brushing her back and his fingers just itching to touch her.

“Shī,” Sakura greets almost wistful, there’s a smile in her eyes somewhere. It’s an expression that Minato is not used to. She banters back, “It depends on the occasion actually.”

“Sakura,” Shī gives her a half-smile, he looks like—like _something_. He doesn’t touch her – not unless she makes the move first – his fingers remain at his sides even when he leans closer, and then he pulls back when he feels Darui smirking at him, “Are you going to be the mediator?”

 _It’s always a dance with them,_ Sakura thinks.

Minato’s always in her orbit, somewhere, in reach, but not out of sight. It’s something she would have to think about later, much later, when the edges of her stress have faded from the relief of today and the next breath of tomorrow.

“Sakura-chan is my precious student,” Kakashi’s voice cuts through the tension and she doesn’t turn her head to glare at him even though she wants to, “She’s also the deputy Kage.”

Shī’s eyebrows raise at that, “Deputy?”

Sakura shrugs at that and takes a seat next to Kakashi, “If you want.”

 _Subtle, Sakura,_ Minato’s interjects. The Yondaime is in her line of vision, a straight pathway from the shoulder of the Jounin medic. There’s something threatening, she contemplates, the way Minato leans against the wall next to the door, at a ninety-degree angle, his feet point towards her, yet the casualness of his shoulders and the heat in sapphire orbs says otherwise.

The art of subtly, may be this man’s definition.

Shī may be in her personal space, but her eyes are always locked on Minato.

And that says something to her.

—

“I know it’s considered bad manners and highly frowned upon,” Sakura tells Shikamaru when the summit is put on a break. Kages need time to themselves to recuperate and eat, according to Kakashi. “But I really would like to punt Kurotsuchi into the Hokage mountain.”

“Sakura,” Shikamaru snorts, “If you slapped her, I think Mei-sama might try and kidnap you. The next time we see you, you’ll be made her honorary daughter.”

“Don’t give her any ideas, Shikamaru,” Kakashi groans and leans his head back into his chair, “I’ve had enough political backfire to deal with for a lifetime.”

“But maiming is more of an art rather than international conflict, don’t you think?”

Sakura laughs and then stands up, “I’m going to get a snack before we start on the debates and negotiation section. Want anything Shika?”

“A blanket and a pillow,”

She rolls emerald orbs, “Sensei?”

“Sake,”

“Don’t let Tsunade-shishou hear you say that,” Sakura snorts and leaves her clipboard on the table. She mock-orders, “You’re in charge Shikamaru, make sure Kakashi-sensei doesn’t disappear.”

“Yes, Hokage-sama,” he replies dryly.

When Sakura closes the door, Minato materializes next to her, he has a frown on his face, but his eyes are thoughtful. He walks next to her, brushing her arm almost absently, the phantom brushes of movement gives her shivers and it’s such a _shame_ she can’t feel him. It seems counterintuitive, for Minato to be able to touch her and she can’t reciprocate.

It’s a weird sentence, it’s an even weirder thought, that much she knows, and the insinuations could be declared as something as almost scandalous, but it’s the sentiment that matters the most to her.

“What?”

“That felt anticlimactic,” Minato confesses sheepishly and his lips quirk upwards when she laughs, “I thought there would be more fighting.”

“There usually is,” Sakura tilts her head, “But since the younger generation has taken over, it’s gotten a bit easier. Kurotsuchi is really our only concern.”

“Onoki-sama’s granddaughter, then,”

“Yes,” she answers and waves down a vendor right outside the towers, “Two sticks of kinako dango, and half a dozen hanami mochi, please. A cup, if you can Kotetsu.”

Kinako dango is her favorite, that, with a glass of soymilk is to her go-to snack, even as a child. Her mother used to treat her when she would receive a good grade on her Academy exam, since then, she’s developed a sweet tooth. She gives Kotetsu a smile before he hands her the cup full of dango, the edges of the skewers peep from the corner of the paper cup, walking to the willow right opposite of the Hokage Tower, she takes a seat on the bench under the tree and stares at her full cup.

“We have fifteen minutes before we go back to the debates,” Sakura tells Minato and rests her head against the bark of the willow tree. It’s almost sunset, the red of the skies blur into her pink hair like a beacon and it’s almost blinding how the rose melds into the fire of the sky.

“Is it really a debate if we’re just exchanging pleasantries?” Minato points out smartly, he eyes the sticks of dango for a minute before taking a seat next to her.

“I’m trying to contain the fire, not add to it,” she rolls her eyes and takes a stick between her teeth, “Besides, Kakashi-sensei has to do all the talking. I’m just there to observe and make sure Naruto takes notes.”

Minato rolls his eyes this time and makes a move to say something when—

“—I was wondering when I would catch you,” Shī’s voice shakes her out of her conversation with Minato, his footsteps are quiet as he takes a seat next to her – on Minato actually and the Yondaime’s disgust on his face as he jumps to the side, is almost worth Shī’s next action – and steals a stick of her dango with a wicked smirk.

“Hands off the goods, Shī,” Sakura frowns but doesn’t say anything to reprimand him, even when Minato switches to her other side, his knee brushing feathers against her thigh.

He chews slowly, “Sharing is caring,”

“Yes, but I don’t care,” she smiles sharply and pulls her cup towards Minato when he tries to grab another mochi ball.

Shī gives her a half-grin, “You’ve gotten meaner, Sakura.”

“I’ve always been mean,”

Dark eyes are lit with the shine of obsidian and soot, “No you haven’t.”

 _I know I haven’t been dead for that long,_ Minato interjects with some discomfort and he takes on an odd tone, _But personal space is still a thing, isn’t it?_

Sakura wonders if it’s because he feels bad on her behalf or if it’s because he can feel whatever it is she’s feeling. The idea is simply too complex for her to even decipher because both options require a certain amount of _feeling._ Then there is the motive, the purpose of it because there is always a reason for thinking in such a way; the advantage of it.

“How is working with Darui—the Raikage?” Sakura attempts to divert her thought process and the faint taste of pepper from Minato’s irritation.

“Sakura,” Shī’s voice borders on patronizing, but still friendly nonetheless, “Leave the politics in the conference room.”

She scowls, crosses her leg and stares at the park across the tower, “Is there a reason you want to talk?”

“I can’t say hello to an old friend?”

“You tried to strangle me the last time I saw you,” Sakura bites back with a hint of steel.

Minato stiffens next to her; the mirage of her emotions, the colors of it meld with different patterns. It’s overlapping, he can pluck out each one individually, but can’s see the definition at the end. There is annoyance, amusement, anger, and happiness. Each emotion contradicting the other.

It makes him dizzy.

“I thought you were a clone,” Shī sniffs apologetically, “A Zetsu clone. You were far too mean to me that day, which is why I attacked you.”

“I would have snapped you in _half,_ ”

“It’s a good thing you didn’t,” he chuckles at that and tugs a strand of pink hair from the baby hair at the bottom of her nape, “I kind of like my face.”

 _That’s terrible flirting,_ Minato scoffs loudly.

 _He is not flirting,_ Sakura almost turns to look at him, _And it’s not like you can do any better. Kakashi-sensei said you were an idiot when it came to women._

She doesn’t need to turn her head to feel him glare at her.

The thing is, Sakura doesn’t feel uncomfortable with teasing him and all that, because she’s picked up enough of his quirks and his phrasing during this past month to feel a semblance of normalcy with him. Semblance being the keyword here. Yet, she feels the need to somehow lessen the sting with this: _It’s not like he’s any better either. If his response to Mei-sama is anything to go on about._

But on the other hand, there is also the thing, where, Minato’s speech, at least towards her, can resemble flirting, or otherwise suggestive, but she doesn’t have anyone, no one, to compare that string of syntax to.

She rubs the headache that pulses at her left temple; it’s far too complicated for her to interpret at the moment.

“How is it, being the Raikage’s partner?” Sakura asks suddenly, again, her knee brushes the side of Minato’s and she doesn’t know when her body starts to unconsciously gravitates towards his spirit, but it does in an almost defensive position, “Kages don’t usually have partners.”

Shī shrugs, “There’s a first time for everything.”

“Hm,” Sakura makes a noise of interest, but otherwise does not say anything.

“It’s a bit odd at the moment, I have to split my time from the hospital to assist Darui,” he offers and stretches backward, “After the war, everything has been a little…”

“Hectic?” she laughs, “I know.”

 _He’s a medic,_ Minato says with surprise, _A sensor too. Can you feel how his chakra fluctuates? Is that how you met?_

 _Yes,_ Sakura answers and wonders about the sensor part, _He’s quite good at bone-setting and superficial wounds._

 _And of course, everyone knows you, as the best medical ninja in the world,_ he snorts.

 _Second best,_ she corrects with a side-eye.

_That’s not what everyone says and you know it._

Sakura hates Minato in pieces.

She hates him until she can feel the jagged edges of her self-worth stitch itself back together in a painful thread. She hates him because he picks up those pieces himself and presses on the wound until it scabs back up. She hates him because he knows and she knows, the only way to let a wound heal, is to stop picking at it.

She hates and hates until she can feel him seep back into her blood, enveloping her in a second skin.

“Are you free tonight?” Shī asks swiftly, his eyes are dark and heavy, they pin her to the bench.

Minato can feel Sakura’s anticipation in the heavy haze of her thoughts – sometimes her mental block wavers without her knowing – she leaves the block down most of the time, but since she’s seen Shī, he hasn’t heard a sound. Like static from the radio, Minato picks up some words from her wavering determination.

_Waxy blonde hair, sunrise, jade eyes, metal, and strewn clothing._

Minato pulls back before he sees something he would never be able to remove from the recesses of his mind.

He exhales sharply.

When it’s sunset, is when Sakura decides to walk back into the summit. It’s a pain in the ass to be stuck indoors all day, but so is the life of a medic. There are sterilized air and white walls. Metal and lemon. Pungent and medicinal.

 _You’re quiet,_ Sakura comments lightly as she throws her trash into a nearby pail, walking up the ramp to the conference room and presses her chakra signature into the security lodging at the door. _You’re never quiet._

Minato rolls his eyes, _There isn’t anything interesting to comment on._

 _I think I’m offended,_ Sakura replies without any real heat and slides open the latch of the door. _I thought I was plenty interesting._

Minato’s fingers tangle at the back of her neck and scrapes her nape with blunt nails, _You know I didn’t mean it like that._

 _I know you’re itching to ask,_ Sakura snorts internally and gives him a look that glitters with mischief.

 _Now how did you know that?_ he raises his brows and releases her. 

She smiles slyly, _Lucky guess._

Minato doesn’t call her out on that, _You can tell me if you want. You don’t have to._

There are limits Sakura has, Minato realizes. He doesn’t want to be pushy, nor does he want to be pestering her for information. If she doesn’t want to tell him that’s fine, there are other ways of figuring out who did what, and when. He does his best to abide by his own words, her boundaries, but sometimes he doesn’t want to.

Because Sakura can feel him just as acutely as he can feel her.

It’s a novel experience, to be so intimately intertwined with someone, to know them, even at their weakest, the most vulnerable part of them, and the places they go when they want to hide.

He can’t remember a feeling like this if there ever was one.

Minato likes it.

He likes this feeling.

This sense of freedom.

 _It’s an almost,_ Sakura reveals abruptly and takes her seat next to Kakashi, _An almost. We had an almost. We were almost together. There was just that one time, when we were at war. A moment. The rest didn’t happen._

Her answer is entirely vague, with no real substance other than the explanation of a _moment,_ but it would have to be enough for him. He looks at her shrewdly, ocean eyes and salt littering his irises. Minato doesn’t speak, he inclines his head in acknowledgment, and stands behind her chair instead.

 _No questions?_ Sakura looks concerned now and Minato can’t help but think of the irony, _Really?_

 _Why didn’t you say yes? To seeing him later?_ Minato decides to give her a question since she’s been asking for one. He hates the fact that he has to ask this question and go along with it, if she changes her mind, but he would not complain. His fingers brush the edge of her headrest and he peers down at her.

 _I don’t have time for a relationship Minato,_ Sakura rolls her eyes this time, _I have my teammates, Kakashi-sensei, the hospital, the village, and you, to deal with. If I’m going to be with someone, I want them to have my full, undivided attention._

Minato pauses at that and he’s sure she can feel the surprise that washes over him. It’s a humbling suggestion, but more so, unselfish. He wonders with wry exasperation, if anyone truly knows, Haruno Sakura.

_Because it’s truly a shame to not._

“We are making a move to close the arguments by suggesting joint programs to end the segregation of nin. Wars have led to discrimination and further hostility between all countries. If we want to aim for peace, we should douse the match before it begins to spark,” Gaara starts the closing argument with this, “Shizune-san has started this precedent by setting up a medical program with Suna. The peace and camaraderie have increased with this. We would like to keep this program for the remainder of the year, at your discretion, Lord Hokage.”

Kakashi inclines his head, “Granted. As long as we have your poison expertise in our R&D.”

“An exchange then,” Gaara looks over at Temari, who dictates for him, she gives him a nod and he accepts, “Granted.”

“Any other suggestions?” Sakura looks down at her clipboard and lists, “We have the exchange of nin from Water Country and Lightning Country. Blades for instruction, gold for weapon production. We have Earth Country and Sand with herb trading and agriculture practice. Fire Country with its medical programming and bounty hunting,” she glances at Shikamaru, “Did I miss anything?”

“Right as rain, Sakura-chan,” Kakashi’s eyes crinkle at the edges and he makes a move to drink his water.

She rolls her eyes.

“I have something, actually,” Mei decides to jump in, it’s a segue way to another problem, “It’s really for you, Sakura-san.”

Sakura frowns at that and Kakashi straightens up, “Me?”

“Your teammate, the Uchiha, has recently solved the feuding Daimyo crisis,” Mei snorts at the reminder and continues, “A very good solution if I have to praise. His second assignment was to eviscerate the Mizuchi, which was very much appreciated due to our lack of nin since we took a devastating loss during the war. However, I must shamelessly ask on behalf of my country, for you to solve our water poisoning crisis.”

“Water poisoning?” Sakura inquires incredulously and looks at Shikamaru in shock, “Are you positive it’s water poisoning?”

“Yes,” Mei sighs and crosses her arms underneath her chest, “Believe me I was stumped at first. But our entire water supply is shot. We have been importing water from Lightning because of it. I tried to keep this under wraps, but if our dam breaks or leaks, it will spill into the ocean and cause the ecosystem to collapse. Our food supply will take a hit and our civilians would go bankrupt because of the price spike when the cost of rice and other products go into a shortage.”

“Trade will drop as a result,” Sakura adds in absently, “Furthermore, if this poison drops into the ocean, it will affect other countries as well. This may become an international incident. How long has this been going on?”

“A month, roughly,” The Mizukage answers, she swipes brown her to the back of her shoulder, “I tried to contain it, but our dam situation is looking worse and worse. Especially since we have stopped using our own water supply. I am at my wit’s end.”

Sakura looks at the Mizukage and she can see the stress wrinkling at her eyes and the frowns at the corner of the mouth. Mei looks _old,_ the weight of her kageship has started to take its toll on her and she feels something inside her wince in sympathy. She’s a brilliant woman and does all she can to fix her country, but it’s unfair how the situation somehow seems to flip in the other direction.

Water Country is in trouble, with the depletion in resources – now water of all things – bankruptcy is looking and more like an option.

The pink-haired medic turns to give Kakashi a look.

Kakashi stares at her.

 _I see his stubbornness hasn’t changed,_ Minato shakes his head in mock disappointment.

“A solo mission?” Kakashi asks suddenly, “Define the perimeters of this mission.”

 _He’s going to make this difficult,_ Sakura realizes with exasperation.

 _The thing is with aiding another country, no matter how good it morally is to help those in need, you have to look at the advantage it can serve towards your own country. It’s one of the most difficult things to do,_ Minato explains and rests his hip against Sakura’s shoulder, _The need to help is overshadowed by your own personal benefit or in this case, country’s gain._

“Yes,” Mei answers and she levels with him, “I can’t afford to pay anyone other than Sakura-san, her bounty is quite high after all. Her expertise, in turn for unlimited blade and coal.”

Kakashi falters at that.

 _That was a good move,_ Sakura hides a smile, _Make him an offer he can’t refuse._

She continues, “With the metal, we are receiving from Lightning, we can forge weapons that can rival the weight and power of the _Seven Swordsmen of the Mist’s_ blades. Chojuro-kun can give you a demonstration if you would like.”

 _That was a good move,_ Minato nods.

“I’ve had my dance with these Swordsmen’s before, so have my students,” he says with a mild sigh and looks over at Sakura who gives him a knowing look, “Requirements?”

“Cure the poisoning and remove it from all water supplies,” Mei instructs and Chojuro hands her a file, “The culprit was the Mizuchi and since they have all been removed, we need to deal with the fallout.”

Kakashi looks at her for a moment and then gives a curt nod, “Granted. The duration of this mission?”

Mei gives a half-smile in thanks, “As long as it takes.”

“Sakura-chan? Anything you would like to add?” Kakashi gives her the floor and all eyes turn onto her.

 _Nervous? You shouldn’t be,_ Minato clucks his tongue and squeezes the back of her neck, _This is your area._

 _That doesn’t mean I’m not wary of the margin of error,_ Sakura shoots back.

 _Sakura, if you can’t do it,_ he likes to remind her, _No one can._

And that’s the problem.

Because Sakura has no room for error.

—

“I just want to sleep for _days_ ,” Sakura snuggles deeper into her blankets and grabs her pillow closer to her chest when Minato makes a move to rest his head next to hers, “Kakashi has been a pain in the ass these few days.”

“He’s nervous,” Minato tells her and grabs a smaller pillow from the bedhead to lean up against, “He wants you to be prepared.”

“He was never nervous when I used to go on solo-missions before,” Sakura retaliates and rolls onto her stomach. Her head faces him and she wonders, “Maybe it’s because he needs me for the hospital?”

Minato rolls starlight orbs, “Unlikely. He’s been twitchier since this war. It might be PTSD or it might be because he doesn’t want to lose any of his students,” he finishes quietly, “The same way he lost his teammates.”

The quiet melancholy makes her gut roll, he can feel it too, so she points a finger at him, “Don’t do that. You didn’t know that would happen.”

“What, that my student would turn into a jinchuruki or that the other would survive from his supposed demise and plot to—”

“All of it,” Sakura doesn’t want to laugh at his dramatics – even though most of what he says is true – and that’s a scary thought. She wants to be able to laugh at all the hardships she, they, have gone through, because those wounds still bleed inside him, “You didn’t know that would happen. Because the Gods – Kaguya is a prime example – have their own agenda, we just happen to be the fallout.”

“The word _fallout_ is starting to sound like a curse, isn’t it?”

“Everyone has their baggage,” Sakura inhales her pillow, the scent of lavender and roses calms her when she sees him watching her with sapphire and turquoise, “Some more than others.”

“Was that an insult?”

“Is it an insult if it’s true?”

Minato chuckles, turns over and looks at her ceiling, “It’s interesting though. I never thought I’d end up like this.”

“If we’re going to muse about the impossible, we should start with something a little easier,” Sakura sits up suddenly and he glances over at her curiously.

“Like what?”

“What does Kakashi-sensei look like under his mask?”

Minato laughs abruptly; it’s loud and deep, rolling off her walls in a quiet rumble.

The incredulity of inquiring about the possibilities comes with the notion of being both exasperating and manic. It borders on philosophy and hopelessness, she couldn’t decide which is the lesser evil, but if it gets Minato out of the _woe is me_ headspace, she’ll take it.

“I can’t believe he took a week to clear me for this mission,” Sakura drops back onto her bed and grabs her medical journal from her nightstand, “The festival finished before he could make up his mind.”

“He procrastinates quite a bit when it comes to productivity and Jiraiya-sensei’s books don’t help either,” Minato adds in helpfully and he leans in closer to look at her notebook. He accuses, “You didn’t show him the Hiraishin.”

“I need to have _some_ tricks up my sleeve,” she huffs a laugh and flips a page, “It’s better to ponder and plot before making a move.”

“Show your opponent only the skill you need to win,” Minato says with surprise, “I see you’ve read _Mifune’s Art of War._ I thought the academy stopped supplementing that reading after the Third War.”

“They did,” Sakura tells him, and then she points to the book on her shelf, “Tsunade-sama gave me her copy.”

“It’s quite brutal,”

“Necessary, I think,” she ponders, when her finger swipes over the edge of aged paper, it crunches at the end and slips over the fold like the crash of an ocean wave, “I learned a lot from it. It helped me help Kakashi-sensei and Tsunade-sama with leading and other kage duties.”

“Politics are just a way of thinking, Sakura,”

“I know,” Sakura scoffs at the thought, “But when you have leverage and the means, the lines can get blurry.”

Minato sits up then, “Are you talking about yourself or for the other Kage?”

“Both, I think,” she glances at her journal for a long moment, “It makes you think how important the Daimyo are.”

“That, and the fact that they aren’t?”

“Mikan-sama has the wealth and sway with the civilians, but the Kage runs the military,” Sakura puts the pieces together, “There’s a divide already.”

“You can’t isolate the two,” Minato debates back, “The Daimyo and Kage work together for that same reason.”

“But what’s stopping the Kage from taking complete control?” Sakura goes on as if she hasn’t heard him, “Other than a total dictatorship, we would have a civil war. The civilians would die obviously, but would other countries join in or would they follow suit?”

“Where is the coming from?” Minato demands with incredulity.

“Remember when Sasuke went to eliminate the _Mizuchi?_ ”

He nods.

“The Mizuchi, who wants to assassinate the Water Daimyo only spells trouble for the Mizukage. It can be considered a coup. What’s stopping the civilians from thinking like that? It will also put a hold on immigration and people settling inside the country. The fact that t reminds me of a civil war is the reason why I wanted Kakashi-sensei to send me out sooner. If I can somehow smooth out the damage that the Mizuchi created, I would be able to stabilize the economy better, which in turn would lead to more water-based weapons shops opening in the capital—why are you looking at me like that?” Sakura pauses her detailed explanation when Minato stares at her like she has a second head.

“That’s such a far-fetched and hypothetical question, which is based on nothing but your own experience and information that actually sounds plausible,” Minato’s mouth moves before his brain can catch up with that new spread of data, “Should a civil war break out, Water Country might point back their finger to you and the fact that Konoha showed hesitation in time of need, which—”

“—which shows that Konoha is weak and if there are people looking to exploit that weakness, they will start the damage with Water Country who is on their last leg—”

“—and make their way to Konoha,” Minato finishes her thought for her, “Though, our military is undefeated. It would be like cutting off their own arm.”

Sakura flinches back at the memory of Naruto and Sasuke.

Minato’s blunt fingernails scrape a line at the nape of her neck, it eases the tension in her head and sets her hair on edge. It’s an apology and a display of comfort all wrapped in one, “Think of the casualties that Water Country would have.”

“You can’t save everyone, Sakura,” Minato tells her.

They go back and forth, contradictions, hypocrites, and monsters in all ways. The word _monster,_ is subjective just as the word _hero_ is. One is of awesome, sacred power and the other is like the tilt of a kunai. Deadly and accurate, but the weight of its actions depend wholly on the user.

But who is to say who’s what?

“I have to try, Minato,” Sakura is adamant in the way she tells him, the conviction and ambition she has, it’s something he hopes that she would keep forever.

“I know,” he exhales softly and leans in closer when she starts to read.

—

“I’m going to miss you, Forehead,” Ino squeezes the life out of Sakura at the gates of the village, “How am I supposed to deal with your teammates?”

“With care and your fists,” Sakura snorts, gives her a tight squeeze, and whispers, “You still have to tell me what’s going on with you and Chouji _and_ Sai. I will send you to Suna if you break that boy’s heart.”

“I can take you any day, Forehead,” Ino scoffs and pats her on the back.

“Are you sure?” she chuckles teasingly and takes a step back, “Ino-sensei?”

“Don’t ruin it for me,” the Yamanaka whines and places her hands on hips, “When you come back, you can meet those brats.”

“Careful, you’re starting to sound like Anko-san,”

“Those are fighting words, Sakura-chan,” Kakashi uses shunshin to reach the side of her, “You do remember who Anko is, right?”

“She’s the crazy snake lady,” Naruto jumps in with a grin, he grabs Sakura from underneath her arms and spins her around before looking bashful at Sasuke, “No offense, bastard.”

Sasuke scowls.

Sakura drops back down and tussles Naruto’s hair, “I’m going to miss you, you idiot.”

“Sakura-chan,” Naruto whines and fixes his hair, “I’m trying out a new look.”

She snorts and looks at the mop that covers his eyes, “Your hair looks worse than sensei’s.”

“Hurtful,” Kakashi presses a hand against his chest and looks at her with sad, dark eyes.

Sakura rolls her eyes, but her heart squeezes anyway. She crosses her arms underneath her chest and tries to look stern, “Not that I don’t mind, but all of you didn’t have to see me off.”

“The mission is indefinite,” Sasuke points out, as if that’s all the answer she needs.

“I’m going to be back in a week, two tops,” she argues and looks past the gate that leads to the forest, “It’s most likely some type of mercury poisoning or pollution that’s causing the toxicity. It is a merchant country.”

 _They don’t understand,_ Minato adds in, he stands on her left, Kakashi on her right and continues, _They want to show you that they care, Sakura._

 _I know,_ Sakura wants to sigh, _But is it really such a big deal?_

“Isn’t it common to send off their friends with a smile and good luck?” Sai asks more to himself than to the others around him.

Minato glances down at her in amusement and Sakura is suddenly made aware of the height difference. Her head barely reaches underneath his jawline. He’s just a tad shorter than Kakashi, he’s less bulky than Naruto but still has enough weight to be considered fit.

She’s exasperated at her own thought process.

But then he flashes in front of her.

Black shinobi pants, a sleeveless black turtleneck with—

 _—ANBU uniform?_ Sakura’s eyes widen at the change in outfit, his hair is still fluffy, artfully messy when he brushes the sides of his eyes, and the few tendrils that reaches his jaw is nothing but angelic. The curve of muscle, that carve from the tops of his shoulders, that reaches down his elbow says nothing but shinobi and it’s the smooth of his arms that have her wanting to reel back into Kakashi at the stance.

 _Did you imagine this?_ Minato blinks and looks down out his outfit, _I kind of miss this uniform._

 _Well,_ Sakura is at a loss for words, _I mean it’s better than all the blue._

He raises a brow at that, _Is there something wrong with what I wear?_

She swallows the hysterical giggle that builds itself up in the pit of her throat, the mortification that follows is squashed by the wall she slams up and then she turns to Kakashi who is looking at her oddly, “Sensei?”

“Be careful out there, Sakura,” Kakashi commands sternly, his eyes narrow as he takes in her lack of team, “Not everyone is happy about Konoha’s part in the war.”

Naruto interjects at that, “We didn’t, technically, start the war—”

“—we ended it,” Sakura cuts him off before he can go on who to blame, “And that’s all that matters. I’ll be careful.”

“Mei-sama will be waiting for you on the island of Nori, not the capital. That’s where the dam is. Think of this as your first official ANBU mission,” he breathes roughly, “Get in and get out.”

She gives a curt nod.

Kakashi ruffles her hair and tells her, “Come back soon, Sakura-chan,”

Sakura gives a small wave and even smaller smile before she turns to the trees hidden in the forest. She puts her left foot back to gain momentum and leaps.

—

“I forgot how much I despise Water Country,” Sakura sniffs when another wave of water vapor swipes over her nose, “The humidity is nothing but blasphemy.”

“Don’t let the Mist nin hear you say that,” Minato huffs and watches her run a hand threw her hair that now began to touch her shoulder bones.

The medic had changed her normal clothing to something better suited for the country she is to travel to. It’s common sense on her part, but foresight to anyone inexperienced. She traded in her skirt and tights for black shinobi pants tucked into her long black boots and a full-sleeved off-the-shoulder deep red kimono top. Her obi thin and knitted, just underneath her breasts.

It may be humid, but the air is cold and that could spell trouble for exposed skin.

“The last time I was here, my team faced Zabuza,” she converses and leaps onto a nearby tree, “They named the bridge after Naruto.”

“He was one of Mist’s Swordsmen, wasn’t he?” Minato spins the memory filter in his brain like a roll of film, and asks, “What mission was that?”

“Our first mission outside the village, it ended up turning in A-rank,” Sakura chuckles dryly and stopped once she reached the edge of the land, “Kakashi-sensei really had his hands full with us.”

“I’m sure he would say otherwise,” he demurs.

Sakura gives him a look of disbelief and he breathes a laugh.

“Possibly,” she shakes her head, “We need to wait for the boat or we’re going to end up as shark bait.”

“You don’t forget anything, do you?”

“A bookworm, remember?” Sakura eyes the tree for a moment, places her seal onto the bark, and nods to herself.

Better to be safe than sorry.

“That’s not what I meant,” Minato shoves his shoulder into hers’s and she leans against the tree, “Photographic memory. You have that.”

Sakura stares at him for a moment, “I do not have photographic memory.”

“Sakura, I was there when you did the surgery for Yuki-chan,” he reminds her and settles himself next to her. If she thinks long enough about it, she’s sure she can feel the heat radiate off of him, but perhaps that’s wishful thinking on her part, “I could see it. You pulled out a diagram on the left side of your brain, almost like a cheat sheet and you knew exactly where to look without looking and that’s—” he pauses and grins boyishly, “—that’s incredible.”

Sakura shrugs, a shy smile playing on her lips and she says, “It takes a lot of practice, that and dodging when Tsunade-sama tells you not to _nick the fucking nerves._ ”

Minato throws his head back and laughs.

She swallows thickly and pretends she isn’t attracted to a dead man that’s attached to her body.

But then she reflects over her past thoughts and wonders: what the hell was _normal_ about this anyway?

Sakura doesn’t allow herself to think on it, the headlight for the boat flickers threw the mist like a flashlight, and it spots her. It bobs in the water, rippling small waves, and the bell rings, “We’ve been expecting you, Haruno-sama.”

 _That sounds so morbid,_ Minato hums with interest, _We should watch a horror movie when this is over._

Sakura nearly stumbles when she puts her foot in the boot, she looks at him in disbelief and then swings her leg over. _I’m on a potentially dangerous assignment, my first ANBU mission actually, I need to solve a hypothetically international health concern and you’re telling me you want to watch a horror movie?_

_Bad timing?_

The situation is so entirely bizarre, that Sakura nearly giggles in wry exasperation.

“Is Mizukage-sama in Nori?” Sakura asks the fisherman politely, keeping her knees parallel to her chest.

“Yes, she awaits at the town center,” The fisherman nods his head and rows.

Sakura smiles tightly. International relations or otherwise, proves to be a challenge to not only political leaders but civilians and shinobi alike. Though she does have a bit of advantage, she sees an older Inari, who shoots her a grin from another boat and waves at her—it’s the pink hair, she thinks.

“Friends of Tazuna-san, miss?” the fisherman asks curiously when he sees a few other people wave at her.

“You could say that,” Sakura answers humbly and takes in her surroundings, “It’s been a while since I’ve visited.”

It softens the fisherman’s treatment towards her.

Nori is an island full of ports, it’s perhaps, the smallest island she has been on. There are no mountains, but hills, the valley is where the indent of the land is the deepest. The sand melds into cobblestone the further she walks onto the road, the grass thrives greener as she heads directly towards town-area and the wind is cooler here.

 _It’s quite scarce,_ she notices absently.

 _It reminds me of Iwa,_ Minato notes quietly, _The lack of infrastructure, of wealth and people._

It smells faintly of pine needles. There are woodlands somewhere, she slides the jade stone two steps forward and walks slower. Sakura never knew that Kiri had woodland areas, then again, she never exactly ventured outside of the capital. Geography always lies, there are always undisclosed places that hide the true hideouts, perhaps it’s for security reasons or stealth; there is never an exact answer.

Mei waits for her at the center of the village, the shops are empty, and the stalls are closed. She leans against what looks like a water wheel and gives Sakura a small wave.

“Mizukage-sama,” Sakura greets and glances at the town square, “I thought we were going to be meeting at the capital.”

“No time,” Mei nods her head at the greeting and explains after a moment’s hesitation, “I had everyone from this island transfer over to the capital. The water from the well – which is also poisoned – has somehow seeped into parts of the soil where a handful of farmers have their plots. I don’t want to take the risk, if someone, should somehow ingest the poisoned crops,” she shrugs, “Should they continue to grow.”

“Poisoned crops are rarer than poisoned water,” Sakura points out and tries to smooth over the Water Kage’s lack of education on agriculture, “Do you have machinery or equipment that dumps waste into the water?”

“Everything exported from Water Country is hand-made,” Mei follows her line of thought immediately, “We do not have enough citizens to even begin mass production if people are dumping waste into the water – which is a federal crime – I do not have knowledge of it.”

 _She almost sounds,_ Minato narrows his eyes at her, _Defensive._

 _She’s hiding something,_ Sakura concludes.

“Lodgings?”

Mei points to a house on the left side of the center, “Kumiko-chan and her son will be able to help you, should you need any assistance. They are Nori’s ancestral family, if you need any information, they are the ones you should ask,” she nods to herself, “I will also assign you a guard, it’s a precautionary measure and it’s also protocol when a foreign nin enters our country. Alone.”

“How should I report to you?” Sakura tries to stall for more time, but the Mizukage’s answers are becoming sharper and sharper.

“Chojuro-kun has a direct mental link to me,” Mei reveals with a small smile, “Anything you need to tell me, relay to him.”

She almost sighs, “Understood.”

Mei makes a move to dismiss her, but first, she squeezes her shoulder, “Thank you for coming, Sakura-san. The Land of Water is in your hands.”

Before Sakura can ask another question – stall again actually – Mei disappears into the mist.

“This was unprecedented,” Minato tries to think of a sentence that can relay both his confusion as well as his irritation at the callousness of this assignment and the fact that the Mizukage had high-tailed it out of Nori.

“The word is _suspicious,_ Minato,” Sakura glances at the well and grabs a blank scroll from her pouch, “We need to get to work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the calm before the storm >>


	8. pluto

They say, that there are roads which must not be followed, armies which must not be attacked, towns which must not be besieged, positions which must not be contested, commands of the sovereign which must not be obeyed. Then there are children, civilians, the innocents who should not be tainted.

Minato backs her ideas, one hundred percent and sometimes it’s nice to have a voice in her head that encourages her.

“I see, so what other than fishing do you like to do?” Sakura asks Shouta – Kumiko’s boy who is roughly eight years old – when he bounces a rubber ball up and down in the lobby of the inn.

“Sometimes, kaa-chan and I like to go to the beach. There are lots of shells there,” Shouta giggles childishly, “There are even those black ones that look like sea glass.”

 _Black shells,_ Minato doesn’t think he’s heard of those, _That sounds almost like oil._

 _Kiri doesn’t have oil plants,_ Sakura believes, _Most of the oil comes from Kumo or Iwa._

“Here you go, Sakura-sama,” Kumiko gives her a bowl of stew, spiced heavily with Kumo herbs and a nice crusty bread to go with the sauce.

 _I miss food,_ Minato looks at her bowl with poorly disguised longing and Sakura is slow when she takes a bite – she tests for poison first – exaggerating each mouthful with a slowness that borders more on irritating than obnoxious.

 _How do they put so much flavor into one spoonful?_ Sakura hums deep in her throat.

Minato scowls, _This is cruel and unusual punishment, Sakura._

“I’m glad you’re enjoying your meal, Sakura-sama,” Kumiko laughs when she looks at her with wide eyes, “All the products came straight from Kumo. Including the bowl,” she chuckles, “We have to be careful with what we use here.”

It’s a subtle way of telling her to fix whatever needs fixing and _leave._

Sakura’s grip on her spoon tightens and she clears her throat, “Is there anything you can tell me about the past month or so?”

“Nothing unusual,” Kumiko thinks about that for a moment, “We haven’t had much visitors since the war. Everyone has been on about their business. We did have a bit of tension when that Uchiha came.”

“What kind of tension?” her shoulders stiffen, even when she tries to shake off the tightness that starts at the back of her neck. Minato feels it, so he slides a hand over her lightly toned shoulders and gives it a squeeze. Fingers digging into the pressure points there, caused the muscles in her back to lessen.

“The political kind,” she rolls dark eyes and focuses on her son who bounces his ball on the floor of the living space, “No one is strong enough to fight him. He took out the gang that’s been plaguing the islands for a few years now, so he has earned quite a reputation.”

“Has that caused any sort of issue?”

“Not that I know of,” Kumiko answers and then wipes her hands on her apron, “Mizukage-sama has been trying to get the people off these islands for weeks now. I refused to leave, of course, this island may be small, but ancestors were born here. It’s my birthright.”

“Is it because of the water poisoning?” Sakura frowns and tries to think of what she read about the country before she came.

 _There are too many variables,_ she tells him.

 _Don’t you mean too little_ _variables?_ Minato points out and takes a seat next to her, _We can’t isolate the cause if we can’t figure out where to start._

 _The main problem is the poison, once I can find a cure, then we can worry about the source,_ Sakura volleys back, _if anything, a source would just give me background information. I’m working from scratch here._

“Partly, but,” she looks over at Shouta for a moment, “The war has left us quite vulnerable. We’re still trying to pick up the pieces. My husband was a casualty of the war.”

“My condolences for your loss,” Sakura says quietly, even though it’s not much and Kumiko may not believe it, it’s enough for her own peace of mind.

After a good night’s rest – as good as it can be without Minato breathing quietly in her ear when her mind starts to wander – she peeks over the red of her curtains, the dim blue-grey light of dawn filters over her room in a swarm of haze. She inhales deeply, Sakura isn’t surprised to see Minato watching her with those ocean eyes of his on the other side of the bed.

He doesn’t say anything and she doesn’t either.

Morning comes quietly, like the rain that falls after sunrise. It’s a soothing sound, one made with the whistle of bamboo and the quiet pitter-patter of raindrops. There is porridge, with honey, blueberries, and a pot of green tea. Sakura inhales sharply, she has a lot of work to get done today.

“How do you find a cure?” Minato asks suddenly, he watches her stir her porridge with an absent expression.

Sakura gives him a look.

He rolls ocean orbs, “It’s a loaded question, I _know,_ but an explanation for the ignorant non-medics here.”

Sakura’s lips quirk upwards and leans back into her chair, “There are five steps in finding a cure. The five are as follows: isolation, classification, analysis, experimentation, and dissolution.”

Minato tries to follow her line of thought, “You isolate the poison and then classify it by type?”

“By symptom actually, certain herbs cause certain symptoms. Other times it can be a combination of plant, root, stem, but most of the time, its herbs. They are the only type of agricultural greenery that’s potent enough to trigger such a reaction. Once we figure out the symptoms then we can classify what grade of poison it is.”

“Does it depend on the type of system in which the poison attacks?”

“Mostly, the other factor we would have to add in, is the severity, of the poison,”

Minato nods his head, “Analysis would be the breakdown of the poison, chemicals, reaction and the effect it has on the body—whether long-term or short term. The experimentation, is what, on live patients?”

“That’s dissolution, experimentation is mostly trial and error,” Sakura tilts her head back and considers the angle of the ceiling, “It’s creating a cure from the poison, if we can neutralize each compound, the cure will create itself. If we can’t, we need to start with one compound and build from there. Then we have to consider individual factors, depending on the patient.”

“Like medical history?”

“Precisely,” her quiet appreciation is a wash of warm air over his back, he almost preens under the attention – why? he doesn’t know _why,_ but he wants to – and looks over at the open window, “But one step at a time.”

The collapse of Mizu no Kuni’s dam, which may be highly important at the moment, does not trump the fact that the poison is the number one priority. Seeing as that it can be considered of an international concern, should this poison spread to other countries, the death toll of Water would pale in comparison to more populated areas.

It’s not a very pleasant thought.

Sakura turns the handle on the wheel to the well, she pulls the blue rusty metal backward and pulls the pail forward. She is very careful when collecting the contaminated water, her gloves are up to her elbows and she pours a cup into a labeled glass, “That should do it, now we have to go to the dam.”

“I thought the water in both places is contaminated with the same poison?” he furrows his brows.

“What if they’re not?” Sakura answers his question with another question, “The thing with poison is that you can never be too careful. Unlike a virus, when someone creates a poison, there has to be an antidote. It’s just the way things are.”

“In case the person who created the poison accidentally poison themselves,” Minato sounds thoughtful, “A failsafe.”

“It’s quite reckless to create a poison and not have a solution, and judging by the fact that this person managed to poison an _entire_ water supply; we’re talking about an _expert,_ ” Sakura muses and closes the lid on the _well water_ jar shut.

“The dam is two miles to the east, it’s still a part of town,” he looks over to his left and calculates the speed and energy it would require to reach there, “A two-minute sprint.”

“You give me too much credit,” Sakura stares at the well for a minute, she doesn’t need hand-seals to use her hiraishin anymore, but she needs one hand-seal to stamp her equation onto an object, a person, or a thing. Using a one-hand ram seal, she presses her hand to the base of the well and hesitates, “Just in case.”

Minato doesn’t say anything, but she can feel his approval, “Soon you won’t need to use a hand-seal; just a stamp with chakra.”

“Perhaps,” she rolls her eyes, puts her supplies back in her pack, and makes a run for the dam.

The dam, to her eyes and from far away, looks quite meager, however, as they start getting closer and closer to the archeological site, the dam grew monstrous. Using chakra at the balls of her feet, she took a running stance up the upheaval in rock, avoiding the splatters of water from the cusp of the overflow.

Sakura swears silently over the roaring of water, “A collapse in a dam this huge could cause a tsunami.”

Collecting water from the dam is more than just difficult, the fact that the water is always moving, spattering, and splashing are trying, especially when she’s not allowed to get wet. She uses as a canteen, gloves up to her elbows, and collects the sample.

“Chojuro-san should be arriving soon,” Minato reminds her when she secures the sample in her pouch and uses hiraishin to reach back to the village center. He cracks a half-smile, “You’re getting better.”

“I have to say,” Sakura admits with a soft chuckle and waves to the Mist nin who strolls into the town center, “The hiraishin is a neat trick.”

He rolls sky-blue orbs and bites back sarcastically, “The hiraishin is not a _trick_.”

“Hush,” she mumbles to him when Chojuro gives her a quick bow, “Chojuro-san, I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

“It’s not a problem S-Sakura-san,” Chojuro’s stutter is shorter, but it’s a lot smoother than she remembered, “Mei-sama believes that you would be more comfortable with me than Ao-san.”

Sakura laughs at that and thinks of the Byakugan-user, “Well, she’s not wrong.”

—

From the reports that Chojuro brought, it seems like the virus attacks the chakra system. The main point of the poison is to destroy the chakra system. Disable it and render shinobi weak; immobile. The symptoms of the poison are a different story. Profuse bleeding, bruising, low platelet count and a sudden decrease in plasma.

Sakura swears, _It looks like most of the main damage is being done the chakra system, which in turn is affecting circulatory system. We are going to need blood transfusions on standby for the infected people._

The symptoms can range from a fever, to hallucinations, blindness, nausea, and heart palpitations.

Sakura stares at the reports with a scowl; the symptoms are all over the place.

 _The poison is classified as what? Muscular? Circulatory?_ Minato picks at her thoughts, the words wrapping around his hand like a silk cloth.

 _Chakra-sensitive, unfortunately, it hasn’t spread outside the country, at least from what I can tell. Chakra-sensitive poisons are nasty. This is horrible. I have this classify it as a B,_ Sakura contemplates and grabs another document.

_B?_

_Of national concern, not international. At least for now. I feel like I’m working backward,_ Sakura glances at her water samples, _I need to isolate the poison. It’s a good thing Mei-sama caught this poison early, I’m sure it could’ve been a lot worse._

“Chojuro-san, I’ll be in my room, just shout if you need anything,” Sakura picks up her supplies and slings her pack over her shoulder.

“Will do, Sakura-san,” Chojuro smiles clumsily and makes a move to stand outside her door.

 _He’s sweet,_ Sakura swallows a huff, _But still a little awkward._

 _He’s a kid, Sakura,_ Minato reminds her with a breath of amusement, it tickles the back of her eyelids.

 _He’s older than me,_ she cocks a brow and opens her door, _Actually, he’s your age._

Minato blinks rapidly at that and turns his head to look back at the door.

 _Oh? Nothing to say to that, huh?_ Sakura scoffs, places her samples onto the small desk at the corner of her room and dumps the clutter inside her pouch onto the bed. She grabs a blank scroll and her ink.

The analysis is a bit easier than she had originally expected. With Mei’s list, it’s easier to pull apart the herbs without putting it under a microscope – her lack of equipment while necessary for traveling and lack of funds – puts a lag in her research, but the list narrows down the handful of herbs and chemicals found in the poison itself.

Isolating the poison itself is the difficult part. It works the same way as extraction, if she needs something to compare it to, pulling the water out of the poison requires concentration and the chakra control of finely sharpened kunai. However, she can’t risk moving too quickly, or the buffer that pulls out the poison would collapse into the solution.

It takes ten minutes to remove the poison from both the dam water and well water, it takes thirty minutes of examination for her to be able to conclude that the poisons are in fact, the same. It’s a small comfort though. Tsunade-sama had told her, should such a situation arise, that’s it better to examine each angle carefully, to consider the possibility rather than the outcome, only then would she be able to level out the playing field.

It takes an hours and hours to experimentation – which much to her frustration doesn’t seem to be working – for her to even make a dent in the antidote.

Minato has to pull her away from her experiments and force herself to eat.

“You’re not going to do anyone favors if you collapse from exhaustion. You’ve been on the run for months,” Minato chastises her sternly and watches her eat rice mechanically, “You’re supposed to be the medic, Sakura. You should know better.”

Sakura opens her mouth to get a word in, but the Yondaime refuses to give her the open volley.

“And activating your seal doesn’t count,” the blonde gives her a look and continues, “Hunger pangs are different from chakra exhaustion. _Especially_ since you’re not using chakra.”

Minato doesn’t know Sakura well enough to know that when she’s invested in an experiment, research or something as equally interesting, her focus sharpens like the edge of a needle. It has her full and undivided attention and sometimes, she forgets to eat because digestion slows her down. That’s how _invested_ she becomes in a project.

“I heard that,” he narrows starlight orbs.

Sakura chomps on her katsu and refuses to look at him.

She does have to admit, her head is clearer and she’s not seeing kanji lettering every time she blinks now. She ignores Minato’s smugness that scrapes down her spine like a lick of flame – warmth but not hot enough to burn – and glances at her experiments.

“This is taking too long,” Sakura sighs into her pickled ginger, “I should’ve been able to minimize or maximize the drops of poison, but the liquid remains stagnant. So is the solution, no dilution or anything, it’s—” she drops her chopsticks and rubs her head, “I know the symptoms, I know that it’s metal-based but I’m missing something.”

Minato grabs her cutlery and china – apparently he can touch things now – moves it to the side, before she accidentally spills miso soup all over her person and squeezes the back of her neck in a placating measure, “Easy Sakura, you have an unlimited amount of time to figure out this poison.”

“People still are going to die, Minato,” Sakura almost hisses at the strength he pours into her shoulders, thumb in the spaces between her bones and dips in her muscles. She loosens even more, close to unraveling, but not quite when he presses into the base of her spine.

“People will always die, but you can’t help them if you die too,” he shoots back almost blankly, his fingers are harder at her shoulder bones, almost as if he’s aiming to make her uncomfortable, “It kind of defeats the purpose.”

Sakura spins around – if he were a real person, she’s sure her nose would brush his – instead, she can feel those cosmos-colored orbs of his pin her directly to her seat. She narrows jade eyes and clenches her jaw at his audacity, “Are you trying to make a joke?”

“Are you trying to kill yourself?” Minato grips her shoulders – it pisses her off even more when she can’t even crack his wrists – and brings her closer to him. “Skipping meals is one thing, but when you can bury your face so deep in your books that you can practically taste the blackberry ink is when I have to seriously question your ambitions.”

“I don’t _need_ you to dictate my—”

“Sakura-san!” Chojuro’s voice cuts threw her anger like lightning, she stills and glances at her door, “Is everything alright in there?”

“Yes,” Sakura answers immediately and her voice evens out to a tone more approachable, “Just talking to myself; sorry to worry you.”

She closes her eyes and inhales sharply.

When Sakura opens her eyes, all she can see is blue. Oceans, seas and sapphires. Minato’s eyes are nothing but a bottomless pit, it could swallow her whole and she is helpless to the salt that glitters like the seafoam against the shore. She can’t remember what she was supposed to say, her mind is strangely blank and the muscles in her body are lax in his grip – which somehow reaches the back of her neck – and she can only stare. 

“Take your time,” Minato speaks first, his thumb runs down the bone of her jaw and he holds her there, in orbit and reiterates his point with a different approach, “You won’t do anyone any good if you burn yourself out.”

Sakura knows he’s right, but she doesn’t want to admit that.

So she twists away from him, her face leaving his hands in a quiet hum of air.

It takes her eighteen hours of pure, unadulterated silence for her to finally dilute the edges of the poison – part of her exhaustion is due to keeping that mental wall up; she hates when Minato tries to insert himself into her ramblings – and her hand starts to shake when she steadies the dropper.

Sakura falls asleep, shortly, after Minato nags her to eat some toast and wakes up on the bed. Carnation-colored hair intertwines with blonde hair and when she opens her eyes, she’s surprised to see him still asleep next to her. She stares at him a little bit, not quite believing the picture in front of her.

It may not be the first time Minato has fallen asleep next to her, but, it’s the first time she wakes up to him still sleeping.

Sakura rolls over onto her other side and watches the light pour in from her unopen curtains. She squints at the gold lighting but doesn’t move.

She knows, somewhere, intuitively, that she’s close to finding a cure, but she’s not in a lab or a greenhouse and that slows down progress almost instantly.

Minato watches her eat her rice and rolled omelets without preamble, he pours her another cup of tea and looks at it pointedly. She rolls forest-green eyes and takes the cup. He means well, that much she is able to decipher from the fog of her temper and irritation, and that she understands.

She’s a hypocrite like that.

Sakura will tell everyone to take care of themselves, but she can’t seem to follow her own advice.

Minato knows he is too, but that’s a part of being human.

—

“I did it,” Sakura watches the last bits of poison disappear on the chakra paper, she closes her eyes in relief and drops her head back onto the chair, “It’s done.”

Minato walks up behind her – she doesn’t hear him because well, he’s a spirit – and tangles his fingers in her hair.

It’s a habit he’s recently picked up. She doesn’t mind it though, the awkwardness of her situation has mellowed somewhat, but more than that, the soothing motions of his fingers feel so nice against her scalp. Blunt fingernails scratch the crown of her head comfortingly and she almost—almost leans into him because of it. His voice is quiet, “You did well.”

Praise, his, is gentle as sunlight, and it warms her in the spaces in between her ribs.

There is a triumphant grin that spreads across her face when she sits up abruptly, spinning in her chair she turns to look at him, his hands don’t leave her scalp, they just twist deeper until the phantom of his body brushes the edge of her nose in an almost—almost caress.

Minato matches her grin with a smile.

When it’s noon, Sakura makes her way out of her room and out into the open of the town-center. Seventy-two hours of extensive research and oddly-timed meals – because Minato is a hardass when it comes to self-care – gives her joints and her bones all types of aches. The salt-air and smell of evergreens are good for not just the haze that settles over her mind in introspection, but the stress that seems to melt from the wind that comes eastward.

“Alright,” Sakura drops the antidote into the well, she churns the handle and swashes the pail evenly, in her attempt to mix the solution, “Give it an hour and that should fix that. The real problem is fixing the dam water.”

Chojuro looks at the well and the flickers his gaze back to her. Eyes shiny with admiration, “Did you really find a cure in just three days?”

She nods and gives him a brief smile, “If the Mizukage caught this poison any later, I’m sure it would’ve taken me a few weeks to find one. It’s a good thing she isolated the problem early on. I’ve already sent the ingredients needed for the antidote to Konoha, they should arrive in a few days with more vials for whoever is infected.”

Minato jumps in here, _You didn’t pack a lot of herbs, so how did you even manage to create an antidote? From the poison then?_

Sakura glances at him before standing up _, I brought some herbs from home. I try to use as little as possible, once you can separate the chemicals from the poison, it’s just easier to use those and use herbs sparingly. I think of it as recycling._

 _That’s quite innovative_ , he remarks with some surprise.

 _It’s time-consuming, but I did what I had to do given my limited resources,_ Sakura almost shrugs and looks over at her guard, “Did Mei-sama give you any information on the source?”

Chojuro doesn’t look at her when he answers, “She hasn’t updated me actually. About two days ago, she told me that the source was coming directly from this island.”

“From Nori?” she whirls around her head to look at him in shock, “Really?”

“It could be a leakage in the dam,” Chojuro gnaws on his lower lip and looks back at her with uncertainty, “It might be something else too.”

“What kind of something else?”

 _Does everyone have to be vague?_ Minato questions with minute irritation.

“There are rumors that poison came from old weapons. They were discarded into the dam during a fight coming from the First’s time and the poison came from the accumulation of metal,” Chojuro reveals and points to the dip in the valley, “That’s where the last battle took place.”

“But there’s nothing there,” Sakura frowns at that. She had already looked around that area, the soil is rich, almost fertile and had nothing but uneven rocks embedded in the bedrock. “The rust from the metal and other toxins that erode with time is a plausible theory, but I would need a model for comparison and I believe that if there were remains from that fight in that valley it would’ve decomposed into the soil—chances are they could’ve lost its punch.”

 _You could test the soil,_ Minato points out, _There should be remains somewhere._

 _That would take too much time,_ she says with exasperation and pushes her weight onto the side of her hip _, and I don’t have the equipment to do something like that either._

“We need to figure out how to pull out the poison from the dam itself and douse the remaining traces in the antidote,” Sakura muses more to herself than to her present company, “Can you take me to the top of the dam?”

The rushing of water is louder than at the bottom, the science of it makes Sakura’s brain falter, logically, it shouldn’t be that way, but she decides that, that is a question for later. Instead of standing on the man-made rock bridge, they stand on the overpass of the dam.

 _Extraction may be the easiest way to remove the poison,_ Sakura concludes.

 _How are you going to extract something so massive?_ Minato wonders with shock and crouches next to her, _It’s much different than extracting something for a person, is it not?_

 _Actually, it’s not_ , she surprises him again, _It’s still a body, a body of water if you want to get specific, but where do we put the poison once I’ve extracted it?_

Minato considers the angle of the dam and the free space they have at the top of the lookout for the dam. The geometry of it is all wrong, he can’t estimate the amount of water that’s in the dam without knowing the exact parameters, and the depth of the dam itself. 

_A scroll? Could you pour the water into a scroll? Would it even hold?_ he’s exasperated at himself, water itself would damage the scroll and the fact of the matter is—

—Sakura stares at him in astonishment.

_Minato, you’re a fucking genius._

She cannot believe that the answer was so simple.

Sakura doesn’t turn around to see him grin, because she can feel and it— _it’s cute_.

She pulls out a blank sealing-scroll from her medical pouch, unseals it, and places it on the ground of the overpass. Chojuro watches her strangely, he steps back when she slips on her elbow-high gloves and takes a step on the running water. Pulling out a vial of her buffer solution, she runs to the beginnings of the dam, uses her chakra to pull out the poison, and runs back to the overpass.

The wave of poison follows her like hell on her heels and she ours the poison that wavers in the air like a stream of deadly chakra into the scroll. It requires half of her concentration, the other half is making sure Minato isn’t in her way when she finishes the end of the ribbon.

 _I’m going to have to do this a few times,_ Sakura admits tiredly.

Extraction requires concentration, her chakra control may lay in the ninety-percentile range, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t conscious of the fact that she’s yanking a massive body of liquid from another massive body of liquid. She’s used to carrying the weight, easily, but she usually dispels it with a burst, not funnel it into a target.

When she finished with the extraction, sweats beads at the back of her neck, she seals the scroll with blood and puts it back into her pouch.

Sakura looks over at Chojuro, “I suppose you know quite a bit of water ninjutsu.”

It’s a statement, not a question.

He nods and smiles, “A bit, what do you need?”

“I’m going to pour the antidote in, I’m going to need you to mix this water,” she stares at the volume of water with mild disbelief and crosses her arms, “So the rest of the antidote can neutralize whatever traces of poison remains.”

“Understood.”

Sakura dumps the last of her antidote into the water, jumps to a nearby tree, and gives him a wave, “Now!”

 _I remember Naruto telling me that Chojuro-san has a water infinity, he’s able to create a number of water jutsu without barely and hand-signs,_ Sakura fills Minato in and they watch as a whirlpool begins to form at the pit of the dam.

 _He’s one of the Swordsmen, isn’t he?_ Minato puts the pieces in place and studies his katana, _They have their own set of skills._

Sakura leaps back to the overpass and rolls her shoulders back at the clearing water. She grins, “That should do it.”

On the way back to the town, five minutes into their trek, Sakura decides to tell Minato after a bit of teeth-grinding contemplation, _There is something watching us._

 _I know,_ he admits with a frown, _It’s like a mist of chakra. It’s not genjutsu, but it’s not hostile either. It’s almost like a web._

Sakura’s chakra sensing might be better than Minato if she had to test that theory out. Her nature is entirely chakra sensitive, so even the tiniest waver in the air can have her twitching from the sensation of it. Almost like a breath, it staggers in the composition of oxygen, tangling in the molecules before it brushes her pores in the slightest hitch of a cut.

_When did you sense it?_

_As soon as we left the dam,_ Minato glances back at their guard, _I don’t think Chojuro-san has sensed our tail._

 _We should widen the terrain, we need all the advantage we can get,_ Sakura frowns at the thought, _But we shouldn’t alert Chojuro-san if it comes to that. They might have ears on us as well._

 _I don’t like it,_ he admits with pressed lips.

_Do you have a better idea?_

He doesn’t.

—

It starts like this:

There’s a moment of silence, then an explosion. Water spewing from a dragon – one like Kakashi-sensei’s but the pressure of it slams against the earth almost as strong as an earthquake – and Sakura leaps to higher ground for a better vantage point. Sakura grabs the kunai from her back pouch, hooks a string of wire through the endpoint and throws. The wire spreads and cuts the water.

She’s gotten one nin, he’s tangled somewhere on the forest floor. Chojuro is taking five nin at a time, his blade made from water, it freezes and melds it back to a liquid state faster than she can blink. She puts a seal on the tree closest to her and swipes a fist forward. A nin flies back into the other’s chest and the masks they were say something to her.

_Rouge nin._

They aren’t hunter-nin, she can tell by the violence in their movements, they don’t try to subdue her, their aim is to immobilize and destroy. Entice and kill, it reminds of her a spider web, curling and curling until it’s prey is so wrapped up in the trap that it can’t find the beginning or the end from the fibers of silk.

Sakura clumsily uses her hiraishin, the seals are pressed awkwardly on the tree bark, the stumps, rocks grass. It’s even more awkward that she hasn’t gotten the kanji lettering down to one summoning seal – it’s back to the training grounds with this one she thinks with exasperation – it requires three seconds, but three seconds is too long.

She jumps and slams her fist onto the ground. The earth shatters beneath her hand and she swings another tree backward, shielding her back.

 _They’re leading you into the woodlands,_ Minato breathes heavily in her ear and he hisses when her arm is grazed by the blade of a katana.

 _I can’t help it,_ Sakura swears silently, _They’re boxing me in!_

The rogue nin slams their katana above her head and she pulls on the cables still attached to her fingers. The katana bounces off the strings and she wouldn’t have been so distracted if she hadn’t done that extraction – it’s strenuous on both the mind and body – so when her vision goes dark, Minato is the only person she sees.

—

Minato sees her go down.

And she goes down _hard._

He watches her stumble, her pupils dilate, the black almost enclosing the green of her eyes and she stutters in movement, collapsing face-first into the ground.

For a moment, he is frozen.

There is an ache, in the cavity of his chest, one that grows sharper and sharper, it’s next to his sternum, buried under muscle and bone. The weight of it nearly sends him to his knees, the pain of it radiates from the back of his skull, but it’s the high-pitched gasping that escapes her mouth that sends him reeling into action.

Minato runs towards her, crouches and when he makes a move to grab her, he can’t. His fingers slip right through her and hit the ground. He stares at his hands for a moment in betrayal; for some reason, he can’t touch her and that causes _ice_ to travel up the length of his spine.

 _Sakura,_ he yells, the blue of his irises nearly overtakes the white of his eyes, rages and he is desperate when he tries to wake her up.

She’s unconscious, buried so deep in the recesses of his mind, that he can’t reach her. Sakura has always been in his realm of space, even asleep, he could touch her without running, he could chase the faint edges of her mind like smoke in an enclosed room.

_He can’t reach her._

Minato’s been able to touch for some time now, it’s one of the very few things he’s been able to take pleasure in since not having a body. There have been no differences since their unification, and the scope of his movements since he was summoned.

One of the rouge-nin materializes in front of him, he grabs Sakura by the hair – Minato bares his teeth unconsciously – and tosses her over his shoulder, “Get Kazuki, we got all that we need. Konoha’s perfect little bitch.”

The words make Minato stiffen.

There is something dark, ancient, and _god-like_ that seeps out of his skin. The phantom skin that’s mapped with speckles and speckles of chakra, littering with killing intent that it is almost physically potent as it curls over Sakura’s form. He bites the inside of his cheek as he keeps up with the pace of the mist-nin; he makes note of the fact that Chojuro, has mysteriously disappeared.

—

Sakura comes to a feeling of a warm hand resting against her cheek, stroking the length of her jawbone. It’s fleeting, feather-like, warm sun over the sand and it’s gone by the time she twists her head to chase it.

Her mouth moves, but no sound comes out.

She sinks back into the darkness.

—

Minato watches as they shackle her wrists, her feet to a board, she is pressed against the rough of the brick wall, and the Mist nin leave her there. He studies the area, it’s a cell, the darkness of it and the cold that seeps from the cobblestone reminds him of T&I, somewhere in the depths of Konoha’s underground where the Hokage keeps his prisoners; Ibiki’s favorite room.

The rush of his blood thuds in his ears and he can only hiss quietly. His mind is a mess of plans, pieces of a strategy that fall apart and rebuild within the span of nanoseconds. He cannot construct a blueprint without his champion alive and well.

He thinks that this is his penance, for his failures.

To watch the one person he’s come to care about – in ways he never thought possible – tortured.

They grab the whip from a nearby hook, he hears the way the leather cracks against the nin’s fingertips, he kicks the medic underneath her ribs, flipping her over until her back is bare. The other nin – one with a gap in between his tooth – rips off her shirt and throws it across the room.

Minato’s bowels drop to his knees when he sees them cut off the bandages.

The nin takes the whip and slashes it across her back. Sakura doesn’t move, the force of the blow forces her body to endure it and with her flat on her stomach, she takes the brunt of the whip—she’ll feel it when she awakens.

The air in his lungs is scarce, he wobbles onto his knees and the nausea that overtakes him is overwhelming. It’s a coil deep in his gut, burning the cavity of his chest and his mind is churning from the lack of air. He wonders if _he’s_ the one that is poisoned.

It’s futile, even if he moves to grab the whip, it will still go through his fingers and slap her unconscious body. The nin are restless now, irritated that she hasn’t awoken from the whippings, so they grab a katana, one finely sharpened and decides to mark up her back.

The Yondaime closes his eyes and pretends that he can’t see, but he can hear the marks being slashed and he thinks that may be worse.

Even though he can’t see, the mind and the imagination are just that much _worse._

Minato had always hated feeling helpless and this is the peak of his breaking point.

—

Sakura wakes up to the stars.

The dark of the night is washed in indigo and starlight. White glitter and saltwater. She blinks again. Sitting up abruptly, she glances at her surroundings.

She’s at a beach.

Emerald orbs stare at the ocean, midnight water crashes against the shore in seafoam and a milky froth. It’s night on this island, the sand is warm against her feet and the moon is nothing but a spotlight on the carnations of her hair. When she stands up, her knees waver and she stumbles when she finds her feet.

It’s a strange feeling, the ability to lose the feeling in her legs all the while walking. Almost like a new-born fawn, she finds her legs just as quickly and it's everything except smooth sailing from there.

Sakura bends down, leans her head against her knees, and breathes.

She needs to catch herself before she loses herself in the momentum of each wavering limb.

It's as if buoyancy, gravity, and weight seemed to have their own laws in this place. Which forces her to ask the question: _Where the hell is she?_

 _Minato?_ she calls out, but there is no answer.

It's peaceful in the silence and that scares her the most.

Sakura walks down the seashore, she looks down to see her feet are bare and she's wearing civilian clothing. A white sundress, it's sweet and airy on her shoulders. It twists at the back of her shoulder blades and hits her mid-thigh. Ino would call it a paper-dress, Sakura would call it a slip.

"What the _fuck_?" she asks disbelievingly, her fingers brush the edges of the dress.

There's a fire – she can tell from the embers of gold and marigold that radiate from the side of palm trees – on this island. She walks closer to the heat, that looks more like candlelight, and the sand who reflects waxed glass instead of tiny pebbles of rock.

"Minato," Sakura’s eyes grasp onto the figure in front of her and blinks at the strange picture.

Minato sits next to the fire and watches the sea with a certain type of sadness that causes her heart to ache. He's wearing a sheer white, button-up, collar undone, a few buttons missing at the center of his clavicle, and tan shorts.

She blinks again.

_Did she hit her head somewhere?_

Minato turns to look at her, incredulity and shock heavy in those sky-colored orbs of his, as his face morphs into one of disbelief and then, he stands up abruptly.

He's in front of her now, his fingers pause as they reach towards, he hesitates for a brief second, brings his hand up closer to her face, his thumb swiping over the corner of her cheek and he exhales.

The world stills around them for a moment before Minato suddenly pulls her against him and wraps his arms around her.

_Safe._

That's what she feels.

Sakura gasps sharply in response once her brain comes to attention; she can _feel_ him.

She can feel the heat of him, the warmth that radiates from his _skin_ , his hands, his chest the way his head _fits_ in the slot of her shoulder and neck. She can feel it warming her to the core. There is something inside her that quivers at that - she feels him pressing her closer to him - almost as if he's trying to press her into him, wanting to hide her in the _depths_ of himself and that makes her heart stutter.

Minato has never actually _touched_ her before – at least not like this – there's always that press of digits against the pressure points at the nape of her neck, a finger along her jawbone, the occasional jab in her ribs, and sometimes, it's the weight of Minato's eyes and his eyes _alone_ , that can pin her in place.

But Sakura can _smell_ him.

He smells like the ocean, the salt from the water, the sea breeze in the middle of the summer; calming and comforting.

He smells _alive._

Almost as if he's the _rea_ l thing, a real, _warm,_ breathing person in front of her and she's—

—she squeezes him back before pulling away.

"—where?" Sakura licks her lips and stares at the thick, green brush in the center of the island, "What's happening?"

Minato takes a step back, but doesn't release his hold on her – it might be because of his blatant disbelief or the thought or fear that she might slip away from his grasp – she can't tell. He replies swiftly, clipped; there needs to be shorter words for this he thinks, "You're unconscious. Rogue Mist-nin ambushed you and Chojuro disappeared after they separated us. I couldn't sense him anywhere."

She nods slowly, trying to absorb the information that he reveals to her, and then she asks the question that's been burning in the back of her tongue, "Where are we? What is this?”

"It’s my place,” Minato says softly and releases her, “The place I go to when I need to go away inside.”

“A beach?” Sakura asks gently, it’s night here and the stars are diamonds glittering over the sand like seashells. There’s a volcano in the back of this island, but it is an oasis in the mayhem.

“I love beaches,” he confesses to her, as if it's a secret.

“I like the water,” Sakura comments lightly and she looks into sea-colored orbs, of salt, of ocean, “I always feel safe in the water.”

Minato's eyes hold her in place and then, he offers her his hand.

She stares at it, just for a moment, she swallows and then takes it.

Sakura takes a seat next to him in the sand, the firelight reflects in his hair like the sunset and it's a beautiful thing to watch. Burnished gold and sunshowers flicker with the cracks of fire. She's dreading this other question, but she has to inquire, "Tell me, why do I have to go away inside?"

She sees the pain flicker in starlight orbs, a disc heavy with cosmic energy and it flashes just as it begins. His jaw hardens and the _anger_ that exudes his person causes the hair on her arms to raise. Sakura knows she isn't going to like the answer, but she still has to ask.

"They poisoned you," Minato explains, his hand tightens around her's, fingers intertwined, he rests the weight of their hands on his thigh, "The blade was a small thing, but it's enough to subdue you. We haven't seen any patients so we didn't know the scope of how _bad_ this poison could be. I couldn't touch you—they blocked your chakra, that may be the reason why. Once they subdued you, they gave you another shot of poison."

Sakura nods, urging him to continue.

He grits his teeth and Sakura has never seen this type of anger from him, _ever._

"They chained you to the wall," Minato's voice takes on a blank, detached tone and it's a stark contrast from the storms that form in his ocean eyes, "You wouldn't wake up. They whipped you. They broke some bones, the worst is your leg. Some fingers too. They stopped the bleeding when they stabbed you with a katana, you didn't scream. I think it made them angrier," his voice gets heavier with each breath, "They wanted information, so they _flailed_ you."

Sakura swallows thickly and a headache takes root behind her left eyelid.

"It's a blessing in disguise, don't you think?" Minato chuckles darkly, something wild wavers in his chakra and her mouth dries, "A blessing that you were unconscious for the brunt of it. You _didn't_ see—"

—his voice cracks here.

"But you _did_ ," Sakura whispers in realization and suddenly she's _nauseous._ The horror catches up to her, the things those _nin,_ have done to her, she doesn't know, she never _wants_ to know, but she will once her brain deems her conscious.

"It's a curse, for me," Minato continues, his fingers squeeze her bones, and then the pressure went with his next exhale, "Because I had to _see_ it. _Witness_ it. And I can never—never, _ever,_ un-see it."

"Who are they?"

"The _Mizuchi_ ," Minato spits out the word.

She flinches back and protests, "But Sasuke said that he eliminated—"

"He _didn't_ ," Minato replies viciously, the tone borders on manic and sharp, "He didn't, because if he did, this wouldn't— _you wouldn't_ ," he breathes slow, "And now you _can't_ wake up."

Sakura runs a thumb over his knuckles and nods to herself, "Okay. The Mizuchi. They want revenge," she tries to rationalize and then wonders, "Why aren't I feeling—unconscious, right. I answered my own question."

She can try to compartmentalize, to hide, to bury her feelings so deep inside her that it will just sit in a glass jar tucked away on a shelf. Forgotten. Those men have brutalized her and she's lucky enough to sink deep in the caverns of her mind to hide from the pain, she may be ignorant to all, but Minato is the one who is essentially tortured.

"The reason that I probably am unconscious is because my antibodies are breaking down the toxin," Sakura decides to distract him and herself, by focusing on her body's defense system.

Minato, finally, turns to look at her and frowns, "What?"

"When I fought Sasori, years ago, I had decided that it would be in my best interest to develop an immunity to poison," Sakura explains quietly, her fingers rub over the scar that the puppeteer eft behind, "I didn't want to be in that same position again. So I started my experiment. I have trained my antibodies and white blood cells to fight off any foreign invaders that enter my body, with chakra obviously. This poison cripples the chakra system, not the chakra in other parts of the body."

His brows furrow, "So you're unconscious because?"

"Because there is a lag period. I don't know how long it will take for my body to metabolize the poison, but once it does, I believe that I will wake up. Once the poison or chakra-eater destabilizes, I can use my Yin-seal and get the hell out of there," Sakura frowns grimly, "It's just a waiting game now."

Minato inhales sharply and throws himself down onto the sand.

Sakura blinks at the juvenile action, his hand that's still attached to hers causes a ripple effect. She's pulled down with him, her head resting in the cushion of the sand and he turns his head to look at her. His sapphire orbs are ethereal, they anchor her even in the dark and admits, "I don't think anyone has ever left me speechless before."

She cracks a grin, "There's a first time for everything."

Minato’s hand doesn’t leave Sakura’s, even when he pulls her closer to him and stares into the forest of her eyes.

Not even then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA: AO3's email notifs have not been working for almost a month now, please check your email settings and correct it from there. x


	9. polaris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Violence/Torture

“What do you call this place?” Sakura decides to ask him after a few moments of staring. She thinks she can see forever in those eyes. The blue of them, are unexplainable. If they are made of starlight, of oceans, of hurricanes, of salt and moonlight she cannot tell—they are ethereal here and in the world where the Gods breathe fire into their mortals.

“It doesn’t really have a name,” Minato takes a moment to think about it, the stars wink above them and the waves are a welcoming vibration beneath his fingers, “When I got inducted into ANBU, I created it. This place is a mandatory realm of reality—but that’s for another time,” he clears his throat, “I hide here when it gets too much. It’s my safe space.”

“I’m sorry I happened to crash it,” she replies dryly, the guilt trickles into her like rainwater and Minato stops the leak before it catches flood with a quick flick of his fingers.

He brings their intertwined hands to his chest and keeps it there, “Never apologize Sakura. Not for something like this.”

“You created this space to be alone,” Sakura points out with a confused frown and looks down at their hands, “A safe space. To keep yourself sane, it’s for your own sense of peace. It isn’t for anyone to be in.”

“I don’t want to be alone anymore,” Minato answers back calmly, honestly, “And you aren’t just _anyone._ ”

There are words unsaid, she knows, somewhere deep inside her. There is something he’s trying to tell her, but her intuition doesn’t want her to know, doesn’t want her to see, maybe because she isn’t ready for those words to echo in the fountains of honesty or perhaps the window of clarity, but it’s there.

_Settling._

It takes root in the edges of her chest, seeping there and pulsing with unknown energy.

“Give it a name,” Sakura changes the topic before she can start reading into the nuances and leans in closer.

“A name?” Minato cocks a brow, “Name the island?”

“I mean,” she rolls her eyes at this and gives him a half-smile, “Like, haven’t you ever thought about it? What you would name your country or island, should you ever decide to own one or inherit? That one childhood dream? To name your own place?” she sits up abruptly, her hands on her lap as she looks out at the sea, and reiterates, “If you had the chance to name your own island, your own town, or country; what would you call it?”

Minato doesn’t move from his position, “My own island? I don’t really know. I’m not very good at names.”

Sakura twists her head to look at him, pink hair falling over her shoulder like a waterfall of carnations, “What do you mean?”

“I have a technique named _Scorch Style:_ Nimbus Gale Jet-Black Arrow Formation Zero,” he doesn’t look at her when he says these words, instead, he focuses on a very shiny star near the full moon.

She stares at him with incredulity, snorts, and then it escalates into a snicker. She throws her head back, laughs and falls back onto the sand with a small giggle, “That’s so _long;_ is the _jet-black_ part really necessary?”

Minato’s ears tint red in embarrassment, he throws an arm over his jewel-like eyes and groans, “I _know_ okay, but I’m not going to change it now.”

“It’s the Nimbus, isn’t it? That’s your favorite part, right?” Sakura laughs again when he groans in mortification.

“That should be your new goal,” she says abruptly, her hand cups palmful of sand and she lets the grains slip through her fingers like rain, “To name this place.”

“Why?”

“Because giving something a name, makes it real,” Sakura replies and she wonders how deep she has delved into her subconscious, _their_ subconscious, “It makes it complete,” she pauses and glances over at him, “Final, I guess. Does that make sense?”

Minato gives a laugh and removes his arm from his face, “A little. I think.”

It’s a good distraction from the obvious, he knows and it might help him in the long run when they’re pulled back into the present. But right now, in this little pocket of heaven, time stands still and they can only breathe in the peace.

It’s quiet for a bit, part of that is because Sakura cannot believe the complicated intricacies of his brain. Everything feels _real._ The stars, the ocean, and the sand beneath her feet. The human mind is of god-like power, it’s too real to feel like a genjutsu, but it’s hazy enough to feel like she’s floating. Inner Sakura was as real as Minato is to her, but she could never touch her the way Minato can—does, even if it’s just in this plane of reality.

“Tell me something,” Sakura’s head somehow ends up on his stomach, her body twists in the sand in odd angles, but it’s comfortable all the same.

Minato does this thing, where he tangles his fingers in the silk of her hair and presses his fingernails deep into the nape of her neck. It’s comforting, relaxing actually because it eases into the pressure point there and keeps her body thrumming. It’s a habit, but not an odd one.

“What?” he asks absently, each strand of carnation glimmers in a silvery wash, bouncing beams from the moonlight.

“Anything,” she closes her eyes and enjoys the warmth that radiates him. She wants the savor the feeling of _actually_ being able to touch him, even if she isn’t conscious, she had been so curious, so _deprived_ – she frowns at her own musing because it sounds so _desperate_ – to have that intimate familiarity with him that it bordered on irrationality.

It’s one thing to _hear_ a voice and see it, but to _touch_ , it means that she recognizes its existence.

Sakura wants to know Minato is real and the only way to confirm his existence is by _touch._

“Did you know that my parents were civilians?” Minato points out with no real anticipation, he eases his way into the conversation and then glances at her laying on his abdomen.

“I remember you telling me you didn’t come from a ninja clan,” Sakura furrows her brow in thought and he tangles his fingers deeper into her hair.

He nods in acceptance, “They were bakers.”

She brings her arm up to her face and grins against her forearm. A noise of interest leaves her mouth, “ _Really_?”

Minato chuckles at her tone, “Yes, _really._ I lived in the civilian district, the one by the big park on Apple Avenue. You know, the one next to the bakery—”

“— _Tsubaki’s_? I _loved Tsubaki’s_ ,” Sakura sighs dreamily and starts to ramble, “They had the _best_ castella cakes. My kaa-chan used to buy those parcel boxes – kind of the sample sizes, but I mean for a six-year-old they were enough.”

“You used to go to the one on Main Street and Apple Avenue?” he blinks slowly at that.

“All the time! But they closed when I turned eight,” she groans at the thought and pouts at nothing in particular, “They had another shop in town square years ago apparently, but that one closed down too.”

Minato huffs a breath and smiles up at the stars, “ _Tsubaki’s_ was my kaa-chan’s bakery. I didn’t know it was that popular.”

Sakura sits up abruptly, his fingers falling from her like water over rocks, and she ogles at him, “Your parents owned _Tsubaki’s_?”

“My kaa-chan _was_ Tsubaki,” he grins at her shocked face and continues, “My father named it after her.”

“Your clan was full of bakers?”

“I don’t know if you would call it a _clan,_ ” Minato thinks about that for a moment, “My parent's siblings are all over the place. Some left for Kumo, others migrated to Tea. I don’t really remember actually, but they were all bakers. I was the only person who came out of my family a shinobi.”

“So, do you know how to bake the castella cakes then?” she eyes him with mock-suspiciousness and twists to look at him, “Or any of the cakes they used to sell then?”

“I know a handful of recipes,” blue eyes twinkle with amusement, “The rest are somewhere in my personal items.”

“And we don’t have access to them,” Sakura groans deep in her throat.

“Not yet,” Minato corrects and ponders, “If Shikamaru manages to find my things, I’m sure my clan’s things would be with them too. Or maybe I have an aunt or uncle somewhere in Tea, I’m sure they would give you the recipe.”

“They would give it to a stranger?”

“They’re probably really old,” he thinks about it for a moment, “Or dead. I’m sure you’ll be able to find it.”

Sakura rolls her eyes, “You have too much confidence in me.”

“Ninja,” he runs his thumb over the line of her knuckles and presses down on the fourth junction of her digit, “I’m sure if you were _sneaky_ enough.”

“Are you trying to say that I don’t know how to be _sneaky_?”

“You can be sneaky,” he snorts and runs his fingernails around the center of her palm absently, “That I don’t have any doubt of.”

“Then?” she trails off not knowing how to word her question and leaves it to hang at the end.

“Then,” Minato finishes his sentence with that and that leaves more unanswered questions than answers. She sits up for a moment to look down at him, he doesn’t leave her gaze, he is content with being pinned by emerald stones and it dries the uneven patch of tissue at the back of her throat.

She licks her lips and looks back at the fire, “Have you ever tried to make your family’s recipes.”

“Lots of times,” he offers, “My kaa-chan wasn’t exactly happy with me almost setting the kitchen on fire.”

“I thought you said you could _bake_ ,”

“Not well, Sakura.”

She laughs at that.

“First-generation nin, then?” Sakura leans back onto his stomach to elevate her neck, a crick grows behind the third vertebrae, cervical in name, but irritation in the other.

If Minato notices he doesn’t say anything, his fingers trail back into her hair and press there. She almost wilts in relief at the pressure but stills when he travels to the beginning of her spine and presses there. He confirms, “Yes. My parents weren’t happy with it. They wanted me to continue the family business, but once they saw my grades from the academy, let’s just say they changed their minds.”

“The boastful parent came out, huh?” she teases with a half-smile.

“I bet your parents were proud of a bookworm, too,” he shoots back teasingly.

“Of course they were,” Sakura scoffs and stretches her spine, “I was the top of my class, you know.”

“I know,” Minato affirms warmly, “I remember you telling me or maybe it was Shikamaru who mentioned it in passing.”

“Either or,” she shrugs and looks back up at the stars, “What happened when you graduated the Academy then? I think _Tsubaki’s_ got big around then.”

“It did. One of my aunts’s opened a franchise in the civilian district and my parents oversaw the one in the town square,” he responds thoughtfully and sighs heavily, “My parents went to visit some family in Tea, they were killed during an ambush meant for Konoha nin. It was during the war, I was a teenager.”

Sakura winces, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t apologize, Sakura,” Minato replies firmly and he scrapes a patch of skin right behind her ear, “I want you to know.”

She doesn’t ask him why even though she’s _dying_ to. Instead, she twists her head to look at him, sea-glass and jade, and looks at him, “Were you alone for a long time?”

“Fortunately no,” he breathes and his fingers finally leave her hair, “I made a lot of friends in the Academy and of course, there was Kushina.”

Sakura stills on his stomach – there is a brief flash of something unsettling and disconcerting that floods in the pit of her belly. The intimacy of it spells all sorts of trepidation, even when she can't seem to look at him in the eye – but then there are those fingers again. They weave into the silk of her hair and he pulls her closer.

Sakura stumbles while laying down – how? she’s doesn’t know - he drags her until her elbows dig into the planes of his chest and her arm lays awkwardly over his side.

She thinks, if she leans a little closer, her forehead would brush his chin and that makes the nerves inside her stomach twist. His eyes are cobalt and steady in his gaze, she almost trembles at the intensity but steels herself to her fate. She can pretend, for as long as she wants, that there is nothing here, but a smidge of attraction.

She isn't _blind,_ nor she can ignore the fact that Minato is actually _dead._

And that sends a pang of _something_ – something she cannot define – into her chest.

There are other moral things that she can internalize and contemplate later, but for now, she'll just look at him and try to put the pieces of sea-glass together.

"Don’t," Minato exhales sharply, his jaw is hard, the angle of it polished, and the vibrations from the depth in his voice thunderous. The sting of her hair parts her mouth and he repeats, " _Just don't_."

She doesn't—doesn't do _anything._

Sakura just _waits,_ because she doesn’t know what he means by that, exactly. There is no context for her to peek into, to know what he means by those words, the implications are just that.

_Implications._

Then she looks away.

She thought, that perhaps, she could handle the intensity that comes with being Namikaze Minato, but she really can't. Those eyes of his are a weapon, they are overwhelming and suffocating at once.

“ _No_ ,” he grabs her chin and forces her to look at him. Meteorite and supernovas. He narrows his eyes, “Look at me, Sakura.”

“I’m always looking at you,” Sakura finds her voice to retort hotly.

“Good,” Minato inhales shakily and releases her chin in order to rub his face tiredly, “ _Good._ ”

"Good?" she hesitates to ask but desires clarification.

He looks at her; breathing in starlight.

Minato doesn't say anything again.

—

Sakura inhales sharply when she feels a pang hit her lower stomach, the fizzles of it travel up her left arm, the pain of it rattles the bone there and she's not sure if she wants to laugh or cry in discomfort. She bites the inside of her cheek when it starts to throb and stands up abruptly.

She needs a distraction.

"What?" Minato twists to look at her, the steel in his gaze heavy and steady.

"Nothing," she says immediately – confusion floods her but causing unnecessary worry and panic is the last thing she wants to do – so she dusts the sand off the back of her sundress and looks over at the ocean, "I think I'm going to explore a bit."

What Sakura really means, is that she's going to figure out what the _hell_ is going on with her body, mind—whatever this _limbo_ is.

"I'll come with you," he decides and stands up too.

Sakura almost makes a face, but she holds her tongue when he follows her down the seashore. He walks next to her, hand brushing hers, feet washed over in midnight drops of the ocean and the moonbeams that bounce off the satin of her skin. She doesn't need to touch him to feel the warmth radiate off him.

She indulges herself for a minute, her fingers grasp his wrist and thumbs over the protruding bone. She ignores the jump in her chest when she feels his pulse. Sakura mutters more to herself than to him, "I still can't believe I can touch you."

"The human mind is a strange thing," Minato comments lightly, then he does this thing, where he angles his bone upwards and tangles their fingers in one smooth action. 

"Is it?" Sakura inquires and glances at their intertwined fingers

It's a pleasant weight in her hand; something real and vivid.

"You can't hear my thoughts and I can't hear yours," he states a matter-of-factly, and tugs her closer her until his elbow brushes hers.

"Two souls, one body," she reminds him and looks up at him with sea-foam orbs, "I think we're on even playing fields."

Minato's lips quirk upwards, a small dimple twitching at the left of his cheek, and she almost flushes at the tiny indent against the corner of his mouth. She doesn't catch his eyes, instead, she focuses on the cool water that crashes against the sides of her feet. His grip is tighter, secure and it's nothing but a pleasant reminder of the reality in the realms of her mind.

The illusion of existing and being is just that.

_An illusion._

The pain hits her again, it's sharper, niggling in her ribs now and her back starts to sting. The phantom blows become heavier with each step and even though it's manageable, it's still horrid.

"Are you alright?" Minato asks abruptly and suddenly, he’s in her face.

Sakura stumbles backward at the sudden change in vision, the blur of cornflower silk and sapphire stars.

He doesn’t let go of her.

“I’m fine,” she lies, badly.

"No, you're not," he scoffs in disbelief, his focus is laser-sharp and it's almost like he's dissecting her under the focus of a microscope.

The pang returns, this time as a white-hot pain that starts at their point of contact and ends in a lash across her back. It makes her want to jerk away from his touch, the pain is biting and the blood rushes into her ears. The gasp she makes is wet, ricocheting deep in her ribcage and settles into the base of her spine.

Sakura collapses underneath the numbing sensation and she inhales sharply, "I _don't_ —"

"Sakura," Minato grabs her before she hits the ground, lifts her with one arm, forearm tucked under her knees and brings her back to their make-shift fire, his voice is steady, but his hands shake when he puts her back onto the ground, "Talk to me, what's—"

"It _hurts_ ," she winces when another lick of fire is slashed around her waist, the pain is heavy in her fingertips, and it _stings._

"Where?" he demands, fingers sliding over the side of her ribs, down her arms, her legs, the crook of her neck, "Where does it hurt? _Sakura._ "

Her name is a swear and a plea all wrapped in one.

"Everywhere," Sakura chokes out and the pain makes her ears go fuzzy. It's white-hot, like lightning, simmering, static and it's excruciating when she feels it claw at her chest. It strikes her again, the whip behind her back, it lands at the nape of her neck and follows the line down her spine.

" _Fuck,"_ Minato swears and she almost laughs; the contradiction of it makes her head swim. She doesn't think she's ever heard him swear before. It's so out of character and strange that it overwhelms her, that's when she feels a rib crack.

It's not one of those soft cracks. The one where it feels like a wobble, the one on concrete, all gravelly and then there's a crunch of a pebble. This is like the snap of a tree branch, one that's dried and hard at the edges. A clean break and the pain causes her vision to spin.

They both hear it; as if it's an explosion or a shot of fire.

"Rib, the third one on the left," Sakura grits her teeth, and her fingers are desperate as they try to root itself in the sand, slippery as it is, there is nothing she can root herself to and take it.

Minato lifts up her dress - he ignores the inappropriateness of the entire situation - slides his hands over the smooth skin over her ribs and feels the protrusion. "It's a break, a clean one."

"Figured as much," she hisses, another rib break cracks, and she whimpers, "I almost forgot how much this _hurts._ "

"What do you mean?" Minato tries to distract her as much, fingers probing the right of her ribcage and keeps his eyes on her.

"My chakra always cushions my blows," Sakura replies roughly and blinks away the stars, "If I ever get hit, I don't feel the full expense of it, my medical chakra always begins the healing process."

"Like a buffer," he puts the pieces together and watches her with fractionally widened eyes, "That's amazing chakra control."

"I know," she laughs and another lick of fire runs against her back, "I don't have chakra in my subconscious, apparently."

"Two souls, one body," Minato reminds her and smiles bitterly at that. He shakes his head and focuses on distracting her, "Where else?"

"My back, ribs, fingers, left arm and—" Sakura's voice crescendos into a small shriek when there's a blow against her temples, her vision blacks for a moment, and there are arms engulfing around her. She thinks she can't breathe, the pain of it is getting too much and it's overwhelming the air in her lungs, "I don't _understand._ "

"You're waking up," Minato realizes with a quiet type of horror, he holds he closer when her body attempts to curl into a fetal position unconsciously, "The wounds you currently have are starting to manifest into your subconscious."

"I knew I couldn't stay here forever," Sakura's smile is wobbly, he can't see it and maybe that's a good thing too.

"That would be too easy, wouldn't it?"

It's a rhetorical question, one that she doesn't bother acknowledging.

The pain starts to get worse, she knows this when her body begins to shake from the pins and needles sensation, and her vision starts to swim. She presses closer into the blonde's body and she half-sobs, "Minato, it _hurts._ "

"I know," Minato's voice is broken and heavy, "I know, I'm _sorry._ "

Sakura cries into the nape of his neck when she loses control of her limbs, shuddering and curling into herself.

He holds her tighter and tighter.

And suddenly, she can't breathe.

She’s pulled under.

—

Sakura wakes up to a dark room, her face is swollen, her back is on fire and her limbs feel like lead. There are broken bones, whip marks, her wrists and ankles are on chained to what feels like Coldstone. An Iwa specialty from the smell of it, there's barely a crack of light and so her eyes can't adjust to the feeling of sight-depravation.

It sends a spike of anxiety through her at once, her ears ring and her body struggles under the weight of her chains.

She falls back unconscious again.

—

It's a cycle, that's what it comes down to.

She falls asleep and awakes with the same anxious, heart-tripping, and blood-thumping panic. The edges of her reality are frayed, her perception is just as skewed and when it comes to her awareness it's an illusion of something that's never really present.

Sakura can't help but panic, she can't find her way back to the beach, to Minato. She wants to escape, hide in a move that's fit for coward because the pain is being taken to unimaginable heights.

It's a constant ebb and flow of nothingness, trapped in her own nightmare and horror.

She can't feel Minato and cannot find the strength to call out for him either.

If it's from shame or self-hate, she cannot tell.

But then it changes.

—

Sakura wakes up to a bucket of water tossed in her face. She coughs and sputters, clearing the air passages in her nose and her lips attempt to soak up the water she's been so deprived of.

"Good," A voice tells her, it's booming to her and it rattles her teeth, "You're awake."

Green eyes open blearily and she notices that it's scar-neck. Fingers grasp her by the throat and she has to steel herself for the coil in her stomach wobbles at the jerky movement. He spits at her, "You're going to tell me everything you know, leaf-bitch."

Sakura wants to hide and hide and _hide_ —until the world is nothing but a prickpoint at the edge of the universe. She wants to bury herself in the ocean, wanting nothing but peace—peace, a fools' dream, but she wants and _wants_ —

— there is hot blistering iron against the skin and she _screams._

—

Sakura breathes shallowly, head fuzzy, and tongue thick. She is delirious when she calls out for him, "Minato," a whine and a sob. Her voice cracks against the glass of his name, " _Minato_ , where did you _go?_ "

Silence is the only one who answers her.

She knows, she’s truly alone, now.

—

What they do to her, borders on war-crimes, Minato sees and hears, but cannot touch. He cannot reach her, no matter _what_ he does. He can scream and rage and bury himself in his own failures, wear his pride like a cape and lead with his victories on his shoulders, but he cannot reach Sakura and it grates his desperation.

Sakura calls for him – hallucinating or sleep-deprived he can't tell – and it shatters the organ that beats in the cavity of his chest.

She's sobbing, screaming – her screams ring in his ears like a waving banner – and pulling at the ground with broken fingers.

Nausea curls in his bowls like a living, breathing being and he can't _stop_ looking.

Minato can never unhear her screams even when the tears roll down his face.

—

There's something artful, poetic when bringing a human to the brink of insanity, the misery bleeds into a panic, it shows the true colors of a person, the way one would take a needle and shove it into the eyes for the sake of unseeing.

It's both irrational and rational; the depths of compassion and helplessness is a curse as it as a blessing. The fact that it's not him that is being subjected to this— it's as fucked up as the cold logic that Konoha tried to condition himself with.

Unjust and unfair; the bounds are unmistakable.

Minato swears and _swears;_ if and when, he's back in his own body, whether it's in the pits of hell or heaven, he will have his vengeance.

_And that is an oath._

He exhales wetly when Sakura's last scream fades into a whimper.

—

There’s a small crack of light now.

Sakura awakens to blue eyes and the sob that she lets out is inhumane; wet, bordering on relief.

"I'm here, I'm here," Minato murmurs soothingly, he so badly wants to take her into his arms and hold her. Anchor her in the void of darkness, to press his hands against her wounds, to put back the blood that has seeped from her cuts and push them back into her body, "I won't leave you, _I promise_. I promise, I'm here always—Sakura, look at me _. Look at me_."

He can't touch her without hurting her.

"What—" she chokes when a patch of darkness grabs into the pit of her throat and she whispers softly, wretchedly, "Where did you _go_?"

"I’m here, I’m _here_. I've been here the entire time," his heart breaks at the agony in her voice, there is pain written in those ocean orbs of his, he cups her face and smoothens over the blood at the corner of her mouth, "You couldn't see me."

"Oh," Sakura gasps in air, her fingers make a move to grab his shirt, they slip through him and a few tears leave her when she realizes that she can't touch him.

Minato inhales a sob and licks his bloodless lips. His blue eyes border on cosmic, and glances at her seal, "Do you think it's because your chakra may be back?"

"Maybe," she can't think, the pain makes it difficult to follow his train of thought, "I can't focus."

"Run a diagnostic," Minato orders her, the blood that stains her teeth is horrific and he chokes, "I'll try and hold off on the pain. I don't know if it will work, but I will try."

Sakura whimpers.

He flinches at the broken sound and the pressure from her head is suddenly gone; she blinks rapidly.

"Oh," Sakura can't breathe easily, but there is a certain weightlessness that washes over her shoulder; that wasn't there before. She swallows thickly and calls out, "Minato? Are you—"

"I'm here," Minato replies strained, he's next to her head and leans against the stonewall, "I took on as much pain as I could, but—" he inhales sharply, "I can't imagine— _imagine_."

He can't finish his sentence.

She gets it; dipping into her seal, she pulls out a small bit of chakra and sends it into her system.

An estimated ninety-seven percent.

Sakura sighs in relief, "Soon."

Minato bites his lip until it draws blood, "Soon."

She doesn't tell him to stop holding her pain back, she doesn't think he'll even bother responding if she did.

—

"Is our favorite leaf-bitch awake?" Scar-throat laughs voraciously and her head begins to throb at the shrill tone.

Sakura grits her teeth.

A foot nudges into her broken bones and she yelps at the bruise.

"She makes such fun noises, doesn't she boys?" Another one comments, she can't tell who it is, they have robbed her of her sight and so she can only identify by sound rather than by touch.

"We should have some more fun with her, shouldn't we?" A finger slides up her thigh and Sakura goes cold.

 _Minato!_ her voice borders on a shriek as panic settles into her throat.

Minato's rage is overwhelming, the bloodlust that washes over her is seductive and she wants to curl into that wave of insanity. He's tense and earth-shaking in his fury, his fingers curl around her shoulders, possessively, angrily and she's yanked closer to the wall. He demands roughly, _Chakra?_

He pulls back another wave of pain and she dips into her seal.

 _It’s complete,_ Sakura breathes, and her eyes glaze over.

Minato's voice is tight, _Go._

 _"_ Yin-seal: Release," Sakura's voice is broken and dry, and she doesn't need hand-seals to pull out her chakra, " _Creation Rebirth._ "

And the pain, vanishes, just like that.

Sakura's eyes glow emerald. They are godless and omnipotent as she cracks the metal of her chains; she can only imagine Minato's wrathful expression.

—

Dozens of dead bodies litter the woodlands when she is done, she marches past the forest and gasps when the sun hits her retinas. It’s too many sensations at once, she heads to a nearby tree and vomits. The bile in her stomach burns her throat, the back of her nose and the muscles in her arms waver when she grabs a nearby tree to steady herself.

Sakura, who is severely dehydrated rests her forehead against an evergreen and tries to center the world that topples in her view.

“Slowly,” Minato’s hands hold her shoulders, as she trembles against the tree. She may be able to heal herself, but the human body can only survive without water, without food for so long, “Slowly.”

“Water, I need water,” Sakura croaks and inhales deeply. The broken bones, gashes, wounds, and bruises, are gone, but she can never forget the way they took pleasure in her pain, how they held her down, how they tried to look _inside_ her blood, and read the truth that lay etched on her bones.

“Two miles east, the dam,” Minato calculates and looks over her ripped clothing, “Can you—”

“Hiraishin,” she’s two steps ahead of him – he almost smiles – and then she flashes.

The dam is clean, the water is clear and Sakura washes her mouth before drinking. The water is cooling at the back of her throat, she washes the blood from her mouth and neck before inhaling deeply.

“I need to get out of this fucking _country,_ ” Sakura washes her face and her hands shake. She can compartmentalize until she gets a goddamn migraine, but the desperation to get back to Konoha trumps the trauma that’s in both her mind and body; she can reflect _later._

“Your pack is back at the—”

“I don’t _care,_ Minato,” her voice takes on a hysterical edge and she grips the edges of her ripped skirt with determination, “I don’t _care_.”

Minato swallows the lump in her throat. He kneels next to her, weaves his fingers in her hair, and anchors her to him. The Yondaime needs to keep the desperation at bay, needs to secure her mental state, and keep her sane. He breathes with her and pulls at the hair at the edge of her nape, “Okay, it’s okay,”

She sniffs and shakes all the same.

“Did you place a seal before we took the boat here?”

Sakura nods and leans into his hand.

“Focus there and pull,” Minato tells her quietly, “It’s okay if the pull is too fast, that means it’s working.”

Sakura flashes them back to the port outside of Kiri.

“Good,” he praises her warmly and takes her hand in his, “Very good. Do you think you can flash back to Konoha? I know we haven’t tried it cross country, but,” he is very careful with the way he holds her to him, he cups her cheek and tells her, “But I know you can do it.”

He watches her swallow.

“If you want,” Minato is quick to edit, not wanting to push her. He can feel her emotions, frayed at the edges, restless, anxious, a tumbling mess of unsteady energy and he has to center her. She can fall apart later, later when she’s safe and he can pick up the pieces.

“Okay,” Sakura nods quickly, her eyes are out of focus, the pupils nearly swallow the green of the forest and she trembles in his grasp, “Okay, how—how do I do that?”

“You placed lots of seals in Konoha,” he begins calmly – he keeps his temper in check and doesn’t let go of his firmly controlled composure go just yet – and his thumb presses into the hollow of her cheek when he sees her going away inside, “Hey, _hey_. No. _No._ Look at me Sakura. _Look at me_.”

She blinks blearily. 

Minato holds her with the oceans of his eyes and repeats, “Keep looking at me.”

Sakura doesn’t smile, but her brows furrow, “I’m always looking at you.”

Minato’s fingers tighten on her face.

“Pull us to any one of the seals, any one,” he instructs her and pulls her until her breasts are flat against his form. She still can’t touch him, but she can _feel_ him, “It doesn’t matter which one, do you hear me? Pick any one.”

She nods again, mechanically.

Sakura closes her eyes and Minato watches her gather her focus. Sakura’s hiraishin can be done, the problem is the technique, she needs a hand-seal and hasn’t been able to cut down her chakra when it comes to the execution. The chakra it takes up is not an issue – her chakra seals take care of that – the issue is the time it takes for her to activate the seal and that can be a life or death matter.

They would have to work on that.

And they flash.

When Sakura arrives in the Hokage’s office – praise her big brain for placing a seal on the door inside the room – there are multiple nin occupying the room. She can only recognize Sasuke’s mop of black hair and Kakashi’s mask from the center of his room. Naruto grabs onto her when her knees start to give out under the exhaustion, “Sakura-chan!”

“ _Sakura,_ ” Kakashi is up in front of her – she flinches at the sudden movement – and Naruto wraps her arm around his neck. She wobbles and winces when she moves too fast.

“Sakura,” Ino breathes, blue eyes wide and she makes a move to walk towards her, but it’s Shikamaru that pulls her back with a curt shake of his head.

Kakashi takes in her ripped clothing. Half of her top his missing and her pants look like they’ve been slashed off, but what really twists the knife in his gut, is the expression on her face.

_Lost._

Out of focus.

Out of touch.

“Sakura it’s been a week since you last communicated with us,” Kakashi’s voice is gentle, but Minato can hear the frayed edges of desperation and Naruto’s hands are tight on her waist, “Tell me.”

Minato’s lips thin.

Sakura doesn’t smile, but she blinks and then coughs a bit of blood, “Sorry, I think I overdid it.”

Sasuke starts.

“Yamanaka,” Kakashi snaps and wipes the blood from the corner of her mouth, “Heal her.”

Ino practically runs across the room, a chakra fueled hand against her stomach and she swears, “It’s dehydration, a bit of starvation too and—”

She sees the whip marks on her best friend’s back and nearly stumbles in shock—a gasp, high and full of pain, leaves her.

Sakura can’t look at her.

The pink-haired nin begins her tale.

Kakashi’s eyes harden when Sakura retells her story, she is propped against Naruto, who holds her, seething silently because Sasuke didn’t do his mission correctly and Sakura took on the pain.

The Hokage ages before their very eyes as Sakura reports on her mission, blankly, without feeling – she’s locked the trauma inside of her – and doesn’t flinch even as she gets to the more gruesome and horrific details.

“Non-essential shinobi, out,” Kakashi orders and straightens up as the nin leave the room. He waits a minute before rolling up a jagged piece of her sleeve and using a hand sign. It’s a ram seal and then half a dog; he presses his right palm to her upper shoulder an ANBU mark is left in its place.

Sasuke stiffens at that.

Then Kakashi slowly – because he doesn’t want to overwhelm her – pulls her into a hug, a hand on the back of her head and she thinks she can feel a tear dribble down the side of her cheek. 

“I am proud of you, Sakura-chan,” Kakashi whispers into her ear and Naruto lets go of her.

Minato’s arms snake around Sakura’s waist, his face buried into the crook of her neck and she allows herself to be weak, just for a moment, with the two strongest people in the world wrapped up around her.

It’s just for a moment, but she can feel herself starting to crack. Physical wounds heal, but the mental ones stay and she can heal herself perfectly, but she’s falling apart at the seams and she has no way of stopping it.

“It’s okay, Sakura,” Kakashi’s voice is meant to soothe, but all it does is remind her of what she’s gone through, “Take it easy, we can always discuss—”

“—tell her, Kakashi-sensei,” Naruto interjects roughly, almost as if he’s choking back tears, “You need to tell her.”

Sakura looks at her teammates with exhaustion before turning back to Kakashi and she’s gruff, “Tell me what?”

Kakashi hesitates, “The Mizukage has been killed.”

Sakura stares at him for a moment, then, that one perfect moment shatters. Time comes to an abrupt halt; the world stops spinning.

And then she crashes.


	10. nebula

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More violence? and FLUFF or something among those lines.

Sakura is hospitalized for malnutrition and severe dehydration. From the moment she passes in a dead faint in the Hokage’s Tower, Ino is already yelling out instructions for Shikamaru to alert the hospital and it’s Kakashi that uses shunshin to the main floor of the ER. Tsunade is there, waiting for her apprentice, her staff running around in the lobby and she barks out orders to the other medics on the floor.

“She’s going to be fine, you brat,” Tsunade snaps at Naruto for the nth time and wheels her into another room.

Minato can only hover over her like a one-winged bird and watches the chaos unfold around him like a deck of cards.

Tsunade puts her in a private room, one close to her office and away from incompetent medical staff. There’s a nervous tick at the corner of her eyelid as she looks over her medical chart. Part of her routine – for any standard and proficient medical ninja – is a full physical examination following the fainting or in this case, exhaustion.

There are holes in her medical report, flaws that she can’t see but can assume based on the scars that her apprentice couldn’t heal.

Tsunade grits her teeth; the whip marks she discovers on her student’s back are _permanent._

The Senju can infer that Sakura used her Yin-Seal to heal nearly all of the damage. She wants to emphasize the word _nearly_ because the scars on her back had healed before her chakra could reach there and that _tells_ her something.

It tells her torture, trauma, and chakra suppression.

Her student would’ve been able to heal those marks on her back without even blinking, but the fact that she hasn’t done so, tells her that foul play was involved and that is _unacceptable._

She checks her IV one more time before sighing in weariness, she leaves the room and closes the door with a quiet hush.

In the realms of consciousness, Sakura breathes fire into her blood and air into her lungs. She sits and melts in the darkness of peace, drifting until a flicker of candlelight washes over her in two sharp sparks.

Forest-green meets ocean-blue.

“Is this part of the island?” Sakura finds herself asking aloud as she blinks at the scene in front of her. She’s somewhere in her subconscious again, but it’s different from the beach.

It’s sunset here, where the blush of the sky meets the sapphires of the ocean. It’s almost nostalgic in feeling, the gold of the sun dips halfway in between the horizon and the teal of the gentle waves reflects off her skin.

She stands on a house – or is it a hut? – that floats about a mile off the coast of the island.

Sakura looks down, instead of the white sundress – a dress that she’s grown to irrationally love despite that one time – there are pajamas. It’s very thin in texture, a pale blue camisole and a pair of dark blue sleeping shorts.

Cotton, by the fibers, her fingers grab at the waistband and she spins around.

She doesn’t see Minato, but she can _feel_ him.

It doesn’t bother her anymore, the fact that he’s there, that she can feel him—his mere presence. It used to bother her, but she’s given up fighting the inevitable. That mission – she feels the pit of her throat dry in anxiousness – fisting her hands, she presses the blunt edges of her nails into her palm, the pain centering her and steadying her.

Sakura inhales sharply.

That mission has done something to her – she hasn’t processed it yet, that will happen when she’s brought back to reality – something that she cannot define and it brings out something cold and unstable from the depths of her _soul._

She rubs her arms – a nervous habit – from her shoulders down to her elbows and analyzes her surroundings.

The house is built like a hut. It stands on stilts, the poles are buried deep in the ocean floor. She thinks it reminds her briefly of the houses she saw in Whirlpool, from that botched mission. Ruins they are, but she has to believe that at one point, the village used to be quite beautiful.

It’s made from oak and bamboo, open windows and powder blue, white cotton, and gold silk. Lanterns washing over in candlelight and marble; it’s a cross between a traditional compound home and those mansions in waterfall.

It practically _spells_ out Minato’s aesthetic.

That’s when Sakura sees him.

When she passes the living area, there is a small square of space – a path – that leads to another room.

Minato lays on the bed in the room next to what looks like a bath – the tub is bigger than her closet and that’s just _wonderful_ – his head is buried in the pillows and she swallows.

He is also _very_ shirtless. His muscles are carved with the precision of a finely sharpened kunai, he is the epitome of a shinobi, down to his narrow hips and a pair of low strung gray shinobi pants that is the only thing that clothes his lower body. As much as it’s _distracting_ —she shakes her head not wanting to follow down that line of thought.

Sakura licks her lips and hesitates, briefly, for a moment. She needs to psych herself up, figure out a way to greet him without being too familiar—which really is a moot thought at this point.

She walks over to him, quietly. Her footsteps are light as she approaches the bed, still, she pauses, raising an arm out above his head, she threads her fingers in his hair and gives it a gentle tug; his eyes snap open.

Then, Sakura is airborne, for a brief moment, the air leaves her lungs in a quiet gasp, hands grasping the curves of her waist – bruising and aching – her head falls onto the pillow with a huff and she’s pressed flush against the bed.

There is a tremor in her hands that she ignores.

The gentle tendrils of sun-soaked hair brushed the edges of her cheekbones, starlight-colored orbs latch onto forest-green and her mouth parts open in surprise. Minato blinks once, then twice, she can physically see the flecks of cobalt in his eyes sharpen in recognition before he exhales and drops down onto her body in defeat.

He stays there, sinking into her, relishing in the sound of her beating heart, the warmth of her, the satin of her skin and the way her hips seem to cushion his waist effortlessly.

Sakura feels the hard planes of his chest squish her breasts, half of his abdomen lines the curve of her hip up to the sweet indent in her waist and it’s _possessive_ in the way he engulfs her person. She’s not uncomfortable, that’s the _issue_ , she should be in discomfort, in an awkward position, but all she feels is a sense of relief, but still, she asks, “Minato?”

It takes him a moment.

A moment for him to roll off of her, to the right, his hair brushing the pillows like spilled sunlight and he looks at her with burning aqua-colored stones. His hand reaches upwards, cups her cheek and he brings his forehead to her shoulder. He exhales roughly, “I couldn’t find you.”

“ _What_ —” Sakura takes a moment to digest that, comprehend that statement, and formulate a reply. She leans into his palm, “What do you mean?”

The sunset, blood orange, marigolds, and blush, blend into her hair like fire, like an aura, one that swallows her in an ethereal radiance. Minato can only stare at her mesmerized, only for a few seconds, however, until she calls for him again and he blinks rapidly, “When you passed out. It was like that when they knocked you unconscious,” he swallows tightly and repeats, “I couldn’t find you.”

“Probably a lag,” she answers absently and his fingers fall from her cheek to rest against her elbow, “There are different levels to the mind. The subconscious is just one layer,” then she tilts more on her side, “The mind is a strange thing, isn’t it?”

A ghost of a smile appears on Minato’s face before it disappears again and his voice is quiet as he brings his hand underneath his chin. Blue eyes lazily look at her, “That wasn’t nice.”

“I’m not nice,”

“And you’re a liar too,” he taps her nose with a forefinger.

Sakura glares at him but doesn’t say anything otherwise.

“This is a different part of my safe space,” he explains and brings his knees to brush hers, “We’re still out by the water, just off the coast.”

“I noticed,” Sakura comments lightly, “Do you come here often?”

“Only when the world gets too much or when I’m in distress,” he narrows his eyes at that, the blues of irises sharpening into chips of ice and he frowns, “You burned yourself out.”

“I didn’t have a _choice_ ,” she doesn’t like what he’s insinuating.

Minato bites the inside of his cheek and she can see the hollow of the self-inflicted wound, just above the right side of his jaw, and he bites out, “I know.”

“Don’t get snippy with _me,_ ” Sakura’s snaps back, emerald orbs burn like two firesticks, and rolls over to lay on her back. She doesn’t want to think about it, she wants to _forget_ about it and she had been doing so _well,_ but then—

—her throat is thick with unspoken emotion and she fights to hold back the crack in her voice, “I did what I had to do.”

It doesn’t work, her voice quivers on the last word, her mouth wrapped around it like broken china and it shakes _something_ inside him.

Minato pulls her to him almost violently, she hides in the crook of his neck, straws of gold tickle the side of her cheek and the thin material of her tank top is the only barrier that puts a stop to the skin to skin contact. It’s almost suffocating, his presence, even when he presses her flat against his chest, his arm tightening around the edges of hips and a palm slides up to tangle into her hair.

“I know,” his voice is gentle, but his hands are greedy, selfish in the way he presses her to him.

Sakura has no need to suffocate, she’s been drowning in him for a long time.

“That doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Minato announces suddenly, quietly, she can almost feel the specks of chakra erupt from the back of his voice, even when he pulls her back – gently because she’s been through enough – just so his mouth can over hers and his hair can brush the sides of her cheeks, “Doesn’t mean I should sit back and do nothing.”

“What _can_ you do?” she doesn’t mean to sound so biting, but this is hardly _his_ fault, this was her’s. She should’ve been more careful and less disillusioned—

“— _don’t,_ ” Minato hisses this time – almost as if he knows what she’s thinking – lips a mere whisper against the corner of her mouth and there is a flash of déjà vu. Then, his fingers dig into her scalp, and her back arches at the sharp sting. Chest against chest, heartbeats against heartbeats, he warns her, “ _Don’t_. Don’t think you can _pretend_ to be strong in front of me. _Never_ in front of me.”

The thing is; two souls one body.

_How do you hide from someone who knows your soul inside and out?_

Minato knows this.

And she knows him.

“I have to try,” Sakura whispers against him, she doesn’t dare move closer, just brushed her fingers against the bare expanse of his chest and she can feel her nipples tighten in response to the rake of fire he sets down her spine, “I have to try.”

“No, you don’t,” Minato doesn’t argue with her. He puts a stop to it, stern in his demand, in his desperation, and his lips, a ghost against the crease of her lips, “Never in front of me.”

Sakura almost breaks right there.

Almost.

She’s holding on by a mere thread, the weight of his fingers a reminder of the pressure and it’s the blue of his eyes that holds her. It’s overwhelming, a crashing wave against the swell in her throat and the tremors in her shoulders. His thumb swipes underneath her jawline, he tilts her head and drops his other hand to press against the bare skin of her lower back.

For a moment, she thinks, he’s going to kiss her.

Sakura’s lips trembles at the thought.

Minato presses his thumb under the curve of her lower lip, ghosting over the sensitive tissue, fingers curling against the back of her waist, she doesn’t wait—she presses herself into the curve of his neck and inhales shakily.

He pauses for a brief moment but then pulls her against him. She can feel something like a feather against the crown of her head, but when he tugs on her hair again, she melts into him and he anchors her when she sinks onto him.

“I have you,” Minato’s voice is rough, fingers sliding over bare skin, dipping around her hips and scraping blunt fingernails at the back of her neck, “Anything you need. Anything you want. I’m here.”

“I know,” Sakura’s voice is muffled in the corner of his neck, the thud of his pulse against the bridge of her nose is so _real_ that it borders on insanity, and she buries her fingers into the bare of his back.

He arches into her hands before pressing the curve of her cheek underneath his jawline.

“Always.”

When Sakura closes her eyes and opens them back up; she’s in the hospital. Minato lays next to her, head buried in the crook of her neck, arm over her upper ribs, legs tangled between each other and she knows, deep down in the bones that hold up the body, that something— _everything,_ has changed.

—

“I hear what you’re saying Sakura,” Tsunade’s face is pinched, amber eyes kind, but there is a certain firmness that laces her tone, “But why didn’t you heal yourself when—”

“—it’s the poison,” Sakura interrupts her before—she doesn’t know why, actually. She clears her throat and twists deeper into the pillows. She doesn’t bother sitting up, her back is aching and her head is fuzzy from the morphine.

The dynamic is odd, a tiny bit humorous, but there are no words to define the context of the situation without seeing the full picture.

Minato hasn’t left her side of the bed, his fingers trace the bumps down her spine, ankles tangled with each other, the back of her head resting in the gap underneath his chin and the front of his throat, while Tsunade looks at her unsuspectingly with a frown marring her face.

She wonders if Minato has a _mischievous_ streak.

“The water poison mission that the Mizu—Mei-sama,” she swallows, blinking quickly at the suddenness of well, everything – the blonde tugs the edges of her hair in acknowledgment, it’s a quiet comfort – and inhales sharply, “Mei-sama requested that I find a cure for the poison which happened to fall underneath the category of a chakra eater.”

Tsunade’s eyes sharpen, “Continue,”

“I listed the symptoms of the poison in a previous scroll,” Sakura thinks back and goes on. Her mentor knows this, but she wants to hear it from her student's mouth, “But the poison, essentially, was to break down the chakra system, slowly. A painful and slow process that will end up crippling the body until it results in one that resembles a civilian’s form, maybe even lesser. After I created the cure and disinfected the water supply, I was ambushed.”

“ _The Mizuchi?_ ” Tsunade remembers the name and nods curtly at that, “How did you confirm?”

“Minato,” Sakura answers immediately and then winces, “He saw… _everything._ ”

Minato pulls her hair back until it falls at her back and presses his forehead into the crook of her neck; slowly inhaling and exhaling.

The Fifth grimaces.

“They managed to nick me,” Sakura scowls at herself and tries to ignore the Fourth’s quiet hiss of disapproval, “A small cut, no bigger than a fingernail and it nearly toppled my system. My oversaturation technique kicked in. I managed to become immune after five days or so, but I kept falling in and out of consciousness, then I used my Yin seal, that’s how I was able to _escape_.”

“Your wounds healed normally before you could pull chakra to speed up the regeneration process,” Tsunade concludes with sharp amber orbs a half-smile twitches it's way onto her mouth, it’s part proud and part furious.

“Yes,”

Minato startles and murmurs into her hair, _Immune?_

 _My body can now recognize that poison and fight back at it,_ Sakura explains and shivers when she feels the outline of his lips against the back of her hospital gown, _My antibodies are constantly oversaturated with chakra, so even if a chakra eater enters my body, it will take a while before it can even reach my antibodies and by the time that happens, my body will have built up a tolerance to that poison. Thus starts the foundation of my immunity._

 _Your chakra control isn’t in the late ninety percentile,_ Minato exclaims with incredulity, _It’s in the one-hundredth percentile._

 _I don’t think that’s possible,_ she points out.

 _And this is?_ Minato waves a hand in front of Tsunade and quirks a brow in defiance.

 _You've made your point_ , she almost rolls her eyes but settles for curling her fingers in her sheets.

“I wanted to talk to you before Kakashi gets in here,” Tsunade shakes her head at the thought of her successor and asks, “How are you processing all of this?”

“I’m not,” Sakura replies honestly and then smiles dryly, “I’m still waiting to have a mental breakdown.”

“The mind and body may be the same in theory, but two planes cannot exist without giving and taking,” Tsunade repeats Daichi’s paradigm with understanding, she tilts her head back and glances at her clipboard, “The Elders are going to want you to have a psych evaluation to see if you gave away any country secrets; standard procedure for all captured shinobi. But with that brat inside you, I can’t take any chances. I’m going to try and push it.”

“That’s not a good idea,” Sakura replies after a moment and then rubs the side of her face – the same exact spot where scar-throat clocked her, “They can claim favoritism, which would cause even more friction with the council.”

Tsunade, however, anticipated her argument, “That may be true, but if proven that you are emotionally unable to deal with an evaluation, they will claim that as sufficient knowledge—nothing says everything than trauma.”

“Do you think I’m emotionally unstable?” she asks suddenly, flickering her eyes over to her mentor and the intensity of her jade orbs startles the Fifth.

Tsunade has seen quite a ray of emotions in her apprentice, mostly on her growth factors and the maturing of that massive brain of hers, but she’s never seen her student quite so somber before. Something had changed her on this mission – Tsunade scowls inwardly – she gave up her Kageship too early it seems.

She's only being given certain information and that leaves more questions than answers.

As the medical expert, Tsunade had been the one to analyze Sakura's rendezvous scroll – after it had gone through the Hokage and backchannels – she had the labs create the antidotes, mass-produce the vials and sent them out as courier mission to Wave.

_That's it._

Tsunade knows the poison, it's compositions, the symptoms—all that Sakura had written on the scroll, but she doesn't know the parameters of this mission and what could be the possible fallout from this assignment, however.

She also hadn't expected her student to disappear for a week without any type of communication.

Kakashi had marked this mission as an S-rank, classified it as ANBU diplomatic assignment, and sent her on her merry little way.

But because of the ANBU clearance, there is no retrieval mission and if she does not come back, there is no recovery or extraction mission on the books; she's marked as KIA.

"Emotionally, you're fine," Tsunade finally answers, "You were lucky that you were able to slip and slip out of consciousness. You escaped the brunt of it, but that doesn't dismiss the fact that you were lucid during some of their...torture techniques," the Fifth doesn't mince words, not even for her student, but she holds her hand all the same, "It's not the same as mind-break techniques, for that I am grateful. But mentally? Unstable, you are. Not because that brat is inside you, but because you haven't processed the emotions that you keep locked have you."

Sakura looks at her startled.

Tsunade smiles at her knowingly, "You don't think I know? You're my apprentice, girl. I wouldn't have taken you in if I didn't see some of me in you. Don't lock it up too much, or you're going to end up drinking away your problems."

_Don't end up like me._

That is what Tsunade wants to say, but she doesn't; the look in her eyes is enough.

"Moreover, you can't hide away forever. There will always be a new problem, a new enemy, another war—peace cannot exist for long. Not in this world we live in.”

Minato winces at the reminder.

"Even though we've redone the entire ANBU curriculum and put in strict requirements for who can apply and what not - so we don't end up with emotionally and mentally repressive idiots like our Hokage - unfortunately," Tsunade rolls her eyes, "We still need to be able to make sure that our nin don't _break._ We've had enough casualties from this last war."

"Sounds very untraditional," Sakura comments lightly and Minato's fingers trail up the back of her neck.

"Leave the politics with the Elders, Sakura," The Fifth tells her with an unamused huff, "My point is: if you want to fall apart, fall apart. Your friends and teammates will put you back together," then she eyes her strangely, "Even if you don’t want them to.”

Sakura does not, consciously, use her mental block again.

—

Sakura is released from the hospital later that day. She doesn’t visit Kakashi even though she _should,_ she doesn’t look for Naruto even though she _wants_ to and she doesn’t drop in by Ino to _catch up_ on the latest gossip. She goes straight to her apartment. If the traces of chakra in her apartment are anything to go by – genin-level chakra trails near her kitchen and living room – she assumes Kakashi sent a few academy students to restock her supplies and groceries; she would have to thank him later.

Sakura tosses her bag on the couch and walks into her bedroom.

She stares at her empty bed, her blankets are packed at the foot of the bed, the sounds of the clock ticking is the only sound that echoes throughout the silence of her room. She unties her headband, glances at the silver of her country, and drops it on her nightstand. Unlacing her boots – because she couldn’t be bothered to yank them off at the front door – she shoves them in the corner near her desk and walks to the bathroom.

Sakura braces her hands on the sink and looks at herself in the mirror.

Minato is behind her, watching her, always.

He leans against her wall, arms tucked underneath his chest and his outfit changes into the one resembling his—their safe place.

Gray shinobi pants and shirtless.

She swallows thickly and looks over at her bath; that’s what she needs, she thinks mechanically.

She turns on the knob, filling the tub with water, water hot enough to perhaps, remove the outer layer of her skin. She drops a cup of sea salt, a quarter cup of lavender oil, and her soap bar into the water. Essential oils are good for the brain, as well as the skin, it’s a proven theory. She gives the bathwater a stir and forces her shoulders to loosen up a bit.

Sakura doesn’t look at him when she takes off her top, removes the ripped off pieces of her pants and the standard underwear. 

She doesn’t turn her head to look at him when she lifts one leg over and submerges in the water, not even when the pins and needles send shivers up her legs, bleeding into her spine. Not even when she lowers herself into the tub and hisses out when the hot water hits the tender scars of her back.

Sakura hands clench the rims of the tub, she forces herself lower and lower, until her chin brushes the surface of the water. The bathwater is murky, swirling with salt and scented soap. She sinks lower and lower, brings her knees to rest underneath her chin, the fractures of her memories are beginning to stitch themselves back together, like film.

Sakura _knows_ she has to go through them, the film, stitch each memory back, look at it dead in the eye, accept it and file it away to never be touched, because that’s how healing works. She’s terrified, horrified that she has to live through this again, she doesn’t _want_ to go through this again.

She inhales wetly and presses her hands to her eyes in prayer.

One memory is interwoven with the other and then the sounds start to filter in. It starts like a whisper, a mere brush against her ear, before it rises in volume, ghosting down the corner of her jaw and she braces herself unconsciously. She doesn’t know what she’s bracing herself for.

Sakura can, _not,_ hear her own screams, even when the phantom traces of hands trace of her jaw, rough and when she sees scar-throat clocks her it sends her teeth rattling. It’s the cold from the brick wall, the frigid stone rubbing her back, pulling strands of her hair like a knife, the metal manacles around her wrists – she sees the bruises there, they have not faded – and the cuffs around her feet.

It’s the nausea, when it curls into her when they grab the whip, it’s the sweet relief of falling unconscious so she can’t see it happening, it’s waking up and the fear, the horror of not knowing what they had done to her.

She can’t choose which is possibly better: ignorance or bliss.

The two shouldn’t be compared but – scar-throat brings a fist to her face and she feels the crack of bone – the suffocation is something she doesn’t want to remember. It’s the rough of his fingers, when they start at the knee, sliding up her thigh, just barely brushing the hard cord of tendon at the junction—

_(“—do you want to play leaf-bitch?” he laughs and laughs, the bare of his throat and those fingers—)_

—Sakura does not realize she is sobbing until she feels Minato’s hands smoothening over her shoulders and tangling into her hair.

Minato’s hands are warm – how are they warm now? or is she imagining it? – she doesn’t know, but they are heavy and close over the expanse of her bare collarbone. It forces her to breathe, to smell the lavender of the water, his thumb curling underneath her jaw, his face buries itself into the junction of her throat and jawbone.

Reality, pinpricks through the haze of her own mind. Slowly, in fine points and gentle slashes.

The quiet sounds of water dripping from the spout across her tub ripples across the soapy surface and the sounds of her own hitched breathing are the only sounds that fills the room. She shakes in her bath, the hot water numbs her skin and stings the scars that are nothing but a reminder of her stupidity, her recklessness, her carelessness—her inability to foresee the possibilities and the fact, that _maybe_ —

“— _Sakura_ ,” Minato’s voice is hard, anchoring her emotions that seem to topple over like an overflowing dam, his mouth moves against her throat, when he lifts his head, his nose traces the line of her neck and over the edge of her ear.

Sakura swallows thickly and tries to focus on the sound of his voice, ground herself in reality, and keep her feet there. His hand slides across her collar bone and reaches around her shoulder in a tight arm-hold, he pulls her back until her back is flat against the tub and the tops of her shoulder hits his clavicle.

It’s an awkward position, the curve of her bath keeps some space in between them – she thinks he’s kneeling on the hard tiles behind her – his arm is strong, it holds her and forces her to focus on water in front of her.

“—I’m here,” he finishes into her ear, the warmth of him seeps into her bones and settles.

She inhales shakily and drops her hands from the tub; the flop uselessly, the contrast in temperatures _burn,_ but it’s okay.

Minato has her; _it’s okay._

It’s okay; a fresh sob breaks out of the space in her throat and vocal cords. It’s quieter but no less painful.

Sakura feels it this time; the press of his lips against her cheekbone.

Placating her.

Minato’s lips linger there, his thumb searches for her pulse, he counts each beat against her ceratoid artery, and his hair brushes over her cheek. Feathery and soft, like petals of a daffodil and he holds her there.

Another brush of lips, at the corner of her eye – she wonders if he can taste the salt of her tears – and then at her temple.

His thumb curls around her cheek like a hook, pressing in the hollow under her upper jaw before sliding back to her jaw, cupping the fine bone and dipping his thumb behind her ear.

Another pressure point that loosens her shoulders, but spikes her heartbeat in anticipation.

“Look at me,” he breathes into her ear, but she doesn’t move—doesn’t think she can move with him anchoring her to reality like this.

Her voice is raspy, dry at the edges but they answered nonetheless, “I’m always looking at you.”

Minato presses his lips behind her ear.

Sakura inhales sharply, her fingers falling lax against her thighs as he centers her.

_It’s okay._

—

Minato feels like his heart shattered when the sounds of Sakura’s sobs reach his ears.

At first, there is a moment of shock when Sakura begins to strip off her clothes, but the feeling is wiped from his mind completely when he sees the scars, the whip marks, the crisscross of knitted flesh on her back, marring her like some sort of trophy—a _war-trophy_.

She forces herself in the water with the intention of scrubbing away her skin – what she remembers, what he can’t seem to forget – the anger in him is like a living, breathing thing and it nearly blurs his vision for the briefest moment.

But it’s not about him, it’s about _Sakura._

Minato breathes in slowly; the phantom touches she remembers, the hands on her skin are like brushes of ice on his.

When she starts to shake, Minato knows he has to do _something._

Minato walks towards her, rests part of his weight on the smooth skin of her clavicle, forcing her to breathe, it loosens her muscles in her back and pulls her close to him. He ignored the bathwater soaking his pants – even though it’s not _really_ soaking his pants – and presses her deeper into his chest.

Her head hits right underneath his chin, fingers brushing any visible part of her skin, trying to anchor her to the reality that’s in front of her. Fingers dip into the hollows of her neck, her throat, her collarbone, pressing on the pressure points in her face, her head, and stroking her pulse point.

Minato tries to get all of those sections down, easing the strain of her stress, of the weight of her burdens, it’s like fighting a losing battle, but he _has_ to try. He has to.

He brushes his lips on her cheek, the crease of her eye and her temple. It’s comforting, soothing her as she drinks in his small touches of affection – he can tell that she’s been starved of any form of physical affection for _years_ and it’s almost _mortifying_ for her to even come to terms with that herself – but Sakura doesn’t need to explain herself for him.

Because he understands—he understands for better than anyone ever _could._

Sakura is too strong to ask for affection, intimacy, soft things—things that make her human because she’s been ridiculed for it, scorned for it and it’s so _dehumanizing,_ at least to him, to deny _anyone,_ of those things.

Minato has never been one for physical contact, especially with people he isn’t close to because that takes years to establish, but seeing Sakura in _pain_ and _suffering,_ brought to the brinks of insanity and agony, broke something _inside_ him.

It’s nearly impossible to stop himself from touching her, to prove that she’s here, alive and well. There is desperation in that too, the need to be close to her, to be wanted and accepted. Human things, but they border on irrational.

Minato thinks he’s gained a certain amount of irrationality from her because she sets his blood on fire and twists and turns him in ways no one ever could.

If he’s clingy or anxious or even frantic, he can’t stop it, because he _needs_ and _needs_ and _needs_ the same way the body needs _air_ , to know that Sakura is _okay_ and that she is _fine,_ because he can never, never unsee or unhear those screams.

When Sakura relaxes against his collarbone, Minato sighs into her ear and listens to the sound of the water drip from the faucet. It’s quiet then, the faint smell of lavender and salt eases her muscles, his fingers trailing over her skin, and his other tangles into her hair.

—

Things get better.

_Slowly._

Walking happens in steps, not strides.

Sakura’s nightmares lessen – she wonders if it’s because Minato pulls her awake when she starts to trash or it’s because he’s there to hold her through the worst of it – the worst is when sleep paralysis happens and she can’t fucking _breathe._

She doesn’t leave her apartment, not for a week. She doesn’t see Kakashi, she doesn’t call Ino and she doesn’t go to Tsunade for her post-week checkup. She stays in her apartment, eats her way through numerous boxes of takeout, and watches films for a good ten hours of the day. It’s unproductive, it’s a waste of her time, but she _needs_ to do this.

Minato is there with her, making sure she drinks enough water, rests her head on his lap and watch the films together.

“She’s going to die,” Sakura points out bluntly and munches on her popcorn.

“I think that much is obvious,” Minato chuckles and tugs at a pink lock, “Who goes into a dark room without a weapon?”

“Idiots, that’s who,” she snorts and grabs her bottle of water, “Also, no one can outrun a demon in heels.”

“Have you tried?”

“Find me a demon and then we can talk,” Sakura almost laughs when he gives her a look, “And no, Naruto’s collection of plushies don’t count.”

“I don’t think the biju would take kindly to being called _plushies,_ ” Minato rolls ocean eyes and presses his ring and thumb finger into her scalp.

“But aren’t they?”

“Plushies?” he inquires with disbelief.

“They’re furry, cute, _and_ fluffy. They just had a bad upbringing and a _lot_ of chakra,” Sakura scoff and sits up, “If you minus the entire destructive, drunk-on-power personalities, and the fact that they were used to wage war aspect of it, they’re pretty much an entire stuffed animal.”

In between the silliness and doing mundane tasks, Sakura slowly winds herself down. The energy, the anxiety smoothens out – she’s a healer through and through and she knows her habits better than anyone – and her nightmares become less frequent. He thinks it’s quite novel, that she manages to work with her fears, instead of hiding behind them, attempting to forget them – like how he wants to – she faces them head-first.

He rubs his face in incredulity, he’s torn between laughing and gaping at her audacity, but the smile that twitches on her lips is wonderful.

It’s a nice contrast from the first few days post-wave.

_Because it started like this:_

“Trauma can only be dealt with if you face it head-on,” Sakura tells him one night, somewhere between witching hour during a new moon, “When you’re ready of course, but I’ve never had much patience with waiting for progress.”

Minato tries to argue with the healing process – it’s a moot point at this stage, there’s no point in arguing with the world’s best medical shinobi – and interjects, “A week isn’t—”

“—I can’t waste time, Minato,” Sakura cuts him off before he can start ranting about timing and space, “The poison is solved, but Mei-sama is dead. It’s always about the fallout, you know this.”

He bares his teeth at his own logic being used against him, he tries a more aggressive standpoint – she seems to see reason when he pushes right back – and offers, “Take a week off. Don’t burn yourself out,” Minato’s fingers grasp her chin, securely, and pulls her until his directly in her face. He presses with clenched teeth and narrows storm orbs, “If you _ever_ put me through something like that _again_ —”

“—you’ll what?” Sakura hisses, this time she pushes closer and dares him, “What are you going to do, Minato? This is _my_ body, _my_ mind, my—”

Minato’s nose brushes the edge of her ear, hand on the back of her neck and he snarls, “I don’t want to see someone I’ve come to care about treat their life so recklessly, Sakura.”

“Isn’t that too _bad_?” Sakura laughs, sharp and unforgiving. The crook of her smile is cold and it settles into his blood like a million tiny explosions; he wondered if human combustion is if, at all, possible, “Do you really think that I could—”

He tackles her back onto the bed and the world disappears—Sakura can’t keep a straight face for too long.

But the thing is, Minato can’t tell if she was telling the truth, not even then.

—

“Tell me,” Sakura asks him one night, she wears her chest bindings and a pair of sleeping shorts. She faces her closet, baring her back, and asks, “How bad does it look?”

Minato presses his lips together, eyes tracing each scar with just a glance, the anger in him that burns red-hot, simmers behind bones, closeted between control and desperation. He struggles, “Do you want me to lie, or do you want me to tell you the truth?”

She licks her lips and says, “Both.”

“No, it’s not bad,” he traces each scar with a fingertip, pressing flat against the flesh when the wound widens to the width of his pinky, “You’re kind of badass.”

A laugh, shocked and incredulous escapes her lips and her body shakes with the force of it. Sakura huffs, “I don’t think I’ve heard you swear before.”

Minato presses his lips to the beginning of her whip mark and breathes there. Feather-light and gentle like the wind itself, “I try not to make it a habit; it’s unbecoming of a Hokage.”

“Clearly, you haven’t spent a lot of time with Tsunade-shishou,”

He shrugs – she feels it – wounds an arm around her waist and tugs her until her back is flat against his chest, “I made my own rules.”

Sakura snorts, “I can tell.”

“Remember,” Minato murmurs into her ear, his next words are a conviction. A belief that cannot be denied or refused. They fill her with something she hasn’t felt in a long time: _hope._ There’s a crack inside her that mends with the first wash of sunlight, delicate, but resilient. He declares, “You are Haruno Sakura and you save _yourself._ ”

She smiles into the crook of her arm because he’s not wrong, but still, sometimes it’s hard to hear those words, especially from someone like Minato and he _feels_ that. His lips curve upwards into the back of her neck and her fists tighten in the sheets.

“You saved yourself when no one else would,” Minato continues, his fingers brushing the rows of her ribs – he remembers the sickening crack of bone and inhales deeply – and smooths a hand down her back.

“You’re with me,” she tries to counter back, but her thoughts stutter when he strokes the skin of her hip, “You’re always with me.”

“I can’t do anything,” Minato admits bitterly, “If anything, I’m more of your fanboy watching from the sidelines.”

That earns him a full-body laugh; Sakura throws her head back and snickers.

He’s pleased, she can tell from the way his smugness tickles the back of her eyelids.

“A _fanboy_ ,” she giggles at the idea of him wearing an _I-heart-Sakura_ headband and waving a banner around behind a desk, “That’s _interesting.”_

Minato sees the picture and laughs despite himself, “I don’t think I would have a banner, maybe a flag.”

“And wave it around?”

“That and give out free hanami dango,” he banters with a half-grin, “They match your aesthetic.”

“Such _dedication_ ,”

“I do my best,”

Sakura grins into her pillow and his hand travels to the center of her spine.

His hand is heavy on her skin, he feels so much more _solid,_ as the days go by and Sakura has to wonder if she’s imagining the entire thing—his thumb presses into a dimple of her lower back and she arches her chest outwards on instinct.

“Minato,” Sakura breathes and her back curves against his torso, “Careful.”

“It still hurts?” there’s an apology wrapped up in those words.

She doesn’t answer.

When it’s Monday and she receives her box of pretty sushi from _Mimi’s_ courier, that’s when Sakura decides she’s fed up with the walls of her home. She’s had enough time to rest, recuperate, and reflect; the alliteration is for alliteration’s sake, though, she’s not too sure what the correct conduct is.

“Do you ever take a break?” Minato asks as she practically inhales a riceball and a cup of jasmine tea.

“Tuesdays,” Sakura points out and picks up a rolled omelet, “I never do anything on Tuesdays; the world could burn down, but I’m not leaving my bed.”

“Only Tuesdays?” he inquires with a raised brow, “What’s so special about Tuesdays?”

She pauses mid-bite in her pickled radish and she blinks a few times, “You know, I don’t really remember.”

The look on Minato’s face is so strange that it almost makes her want to laugh, he tilts his blonde head and wrinkles his nose, “But only Tuesdays?”

Sakura narrows her brows in a challenge, “Did you ever take a break when you were Hokage?”

He rolls sapphire orbs, “I see your point.”

She shakes her head and takes another bite of riceball.

After a moment, Minato says hastily, “Just promise me, that you’ll take it easy. You took on a lot of responsibility even before the mission—for a long time. Then you had this _mission,_ ” he spits the word out, “And you’re about to dive back into your duties.”

“Minato,” Sakura rolls the word off her tongue like wine, it’s tinged with slight exasperation and enough to heat to send a jolt of electricity up his spine, “As the world’s best medical ninja,” he smirks at that, “An advisor to the Kage, Leaf ambassador and now,” she points to her ANBU tattoo on her shoulder, “ANBU officiate, I don’t have time to take it easy.”

He can see the pieces of her self-worth stitch back together in front of his very eyes and it’s a beautiful thing, but she’ll fight him every step of the way and that’s fine. He’ll match it with each blow he can muster and dodge each word with the precision of a finely sharpened kunai.

Minato stands up, walks towards her, grabs her chin, and tilts it upwards. Blue eyes are storms, “It wasn’t a request, Sakura.”

Sakura licks her lips unconsciously – Minato’s gaze drops to her lips and she _sees_ it – her lungs are on fire because she refuses to even _breathe_ —

“—kay,” her voice is wobbly and his fingers squeeze the bones there.

—

Minato’s outfit changes again. He opts out of his Hokage robes for his ANBU uniform – sans his white military-grade vest – for a deeper cobalt turtleneck. His headband pushes his hair back to the sides of his face.

Sakura gives a once-over, she puts a hand on her waist after locks up her apartment and cocks a brow, “You know, I’m not sure if I like the headband.”

“This is your mind,” Minato retorts with a chuckle

“Are you sure about that?” she gives him a half-smirk and shoves her hands in her pants.

He’s not.

Minato curls his tongue against the inner corner of his cheek and walks next to her. She doesn’t wear her usual nin outfit, she opts for similar black shinobi pants, a high-neck kimono top with sleeves—hiding her scars from the rest of the world and her boots.

She loves those boots of hers it seems, he thinks with amusement.

Sakura doesn’t know why he does it, but he can’t seem to keep his hands off of her – she’s not going to complain because she likes the constant reminder of his presence – his fingers tangle with hers and they walk to the Hokage Tower in comfortable silence.

She has quite a bit of time to evaluate their relationship from the past week.

Tsunade was right about one thing; she can’t hide anything from him anymore.

Moreover, Sakura doesn’t _want_ to.

She raps her hand on the door, twice. Minato’s fingers squeeze hers in a show of silent strength, inhaling deeply, she twists the knob and opens the door.

“Kakashi-sensei,” Sakura greets him with an almost smile and shuts the door close.

“Sakura-chan,” Kakashi’s eyebrows raise, he wants to stand up, but he forces himself to remain still, “I thought I told you to take a month off.”

She almost groans, “I got bored.”

Minato’s snicker tickles her left ear.

“You went on a mission, solved an international health concern, created an antidote for a poison, got kidnapped by a terrorist group, had them torture you for shits and giggles for seven days before breaking free and traveling back to Konoha by yourself; now you’re telling me after a week of rest, you’re _bored_?” Kakashi demands with disbelief and blatant exasperation.

 _Well, when Kakashi puts it that way,_ Sakura grimaces, _it does sound bad._

 _Glad we’re on the same page,_ Minato snorts.

She almost rolls her eyes, “Okay, but sensei, I’m _fine_ , so we can just get back to—”

“—Sakura-chan!” Naruto runs towards her – she sees scar-throat, hands in her face, fingers up her thighs, touching the chord of her pelvis, her broken ribcage, the fire of the whip – she slams her fist into his stomach, the hand moves to the back of his neck, a knee digging into his lower back and she crushes—

 _Sakura, Sakura,_ Minato doesn’t panic because he grabs her around the waist – it looks like an unknown force pulls her back – her back is pressed into his chest and his arm is tight around her hips, _Sakura look at me, Sakura look at me._

Minato grabs her by the cheeks and pulls her in his face—her pupils nearly swallow the green of her irises, but his mouth is against her ear and he exhales into the depression there.

“—you shouldn’t have rushed at her Naruto!”

It’s Shikamaru, she thinks faintly.

 _That’s it,_ Minato feels the pain of the memories slam into her like torrents and he grits his teeth – because he wants to skin those _monsters_ alive – but Sakura is his first priority, _Come back to me. Come back to me, you’re almost there. That’s it._

“—do you think you’re any better, bastard? This is all your fault! If you had done your fucking job—”

 _That’s it,_ Minato’s mouth moves from her ear to brush her cheek, her fingers twitch as his lips brush over the fine bone there and over her left eyelid, _Stay with me, okay?_

“Okay,” Sakura doesn’t realize she’s spoken aloud.

She blinks back to reality and presses herself closer to Minato – who tightens his arms around her – and repeats with a certain amount of acceptance, “ _Okay_.”

Maybe she’s not okay.


	11. terrestrial

When Sakura wakes up from Ibiki’s probing – the standard interrogation technique for all captured nin – she finds out that it was _Shikamaru,_ who recommended the man to include her psych eval for ANBU with this session. She’s both disorientated and dehydrated.

The lights blur like two meteors, she blinks a couple of times to clear her vision, but all that does is make her head ache and her temples throb. Sakura rotates her head to the side, the cool of the metal makes her stomach flop, and it’s the fresh wash of oxygen from the vents that she tries to focus her energy on.

“Hey,” Ino’s voice comes from the door – the light burns her eyes and her stomach swims with nausea – and she closes the door just as quickly. She walks over to her best friend whose head lolls over the headrest and crouches down next to her. The blonde tells her, gently, slowly, “I’m going to get you out of here. Do you think you can walk?”

Sakura takes a moment to nod when she makes a move to sit up, and the roll in her gut pushes her back in her seat, “I lied; get Kakashi-sensei.”

Ino grimaces even though Sakura can’t see – her eyes are still closed – and stands up, “Okay, I’m going to leave the door closed. I’ll be right back.”

The pink-haired medic gives her a wave, she hears, but the words don’t register in her head until the door is shut.

 _Minato,_ Sakura calls out for him and exhales, _Get me out of here._

She feels an arm snake around her hips and it pulls her _down_.

—

Sakura is back in her— _their_ room. The house out on the water, closing her eyes, she rolls over in her sheets and opens green orbs.

The earth meets the sky.

Minato doesn’t say anything, his fingers stroke the corner of her cheek, thumb catching her lower lip – her nerves tingle at that – and then he swipes it right underneath her chin.

They’re wearing the same clothes as last time, she notes.

“Where did you go?” she asks him softly, her brows furrow at the curious motion, but she doesn’t bother to correct him when he holds her chin and pulls her closer.

He almost flinches at the question – a memory, blurry at the edges falls into existence and fades out – he swallows, “Around,” drops his hand from her face to slide down her hip and he finishes, “I took them to the beach and kept them there.”

Sakura frowns, “How did you manage that?”

Minato sighs, drops his head back onto the pillows and stretches. Emerald eyes fasten to his Adam’s apple, the long stretch of throat, the hard cord of tendons that protrude from the skin when his jaw flexes, “It’s kind of complicated to explain. I can shape the way this place looks like. A _safe place,_ so to speak, is an ANBU technique. When we get missions – unsavory and immoral as they may be – it’s a place we go to find peace; mentally. Morphing the world isn’t complicated, because it takes free-will and because I’m a separate entity, it’s easier for me to just _think_ of it that way.”

“I’m sorry,” she blinks rapidly, the corner of her lips twitches, but Minato can’t tell if there is amusement or confusion in her eyes, “Did you just say _immoral_? You, went on _corrupt_ missions? _You_?”

Minato gives her a deadpanned look, “Contrary to belief, Sakura, there was a time when I _wasn’t_ Hokage. Therefore, I had to go on—”

“—that’s not what I meant,” Sakura rolls her eyes and shoves an arm behind her head, “I find it hard to believe you, the Yondaime, who banned _seduction_ missions during your reign, went on _unethical_ missions.”

“ _Unethical_ missions are the reason why I banned them in the first place,” he counters back and twists back in the sheets.

“So you’re going to tell me why you banned seduction missions?” she quirks a brow at him and shifts her hips until they are parallel with the bed, “I’m a little curious.”

Minato snorts, “A little?”

“Okay, a lot,” Sakura rolls her eyes and brings her knees closer to her chest.

His fingers drop to her knee, lifts it, and then tugs it until the appendage is slung over his hips. It brings them that much closer, the motion of it is to ease the pressure on her scars – if there is any pain because he doesn’t ask – but it’s the intimacy of it that has the blood in her ears roaring.

“Well?” Sakura’s gaze drops to his lips – bad idea she realizes – and shifts them to the curve of his ear; it’s not a great distraction, but it’s enough to lessen the static in her brain.

“I have been on seduction missions before,” Minato reveals, his fingers tucked underneath the back of her right knee.

Her eyes widen in mock surprise, “ _Really_ now?”

He rolls starlight orbs and digs his fingers in the back of her hamstring, “Yes. A handful actually. I never liked the idea of _selling_ my body, especially…”

“Especially?” Sakura urges him on.

“Especially since it’s for the _village_ ,” Minato’s nose wrinkles in distaste – a habit he’s picked up from her, she sees – and goes on, “I know that it’s the shinobi’s duty to do whatever it takes to complete the mission, however,” he stresses the word, “ _However,_ selling your body and your mental prowess is where I draw the line—and your teammate's safety, of course.”

“Of course,” she agrees absently, “How many seduction missions have you been on?”

“Ten,”

Sakura’s eyebrows raise dramatically at that, “That’s a lot.”

“Is it?”

“Tsunade-sama brought back seduction missions,” she says slowly and goes back over her reasoning, “Shortly after I turned fifteen, they were implemented only for ANBU officials, mostly to increase funds and provide more capital. Though there were exceptions.”

“Exceptions?” Minato narrows his eyes at that.

Sakura fixes him a hard look.

_I’m the exception._

The air he releases from clenched teeth whistles, he travels his fingers up to the edge of her shorts and asks, “How old were you?”

She grimaces, “Seventeen.”

“Wasn’t that—”

“—during the war?” Sakura finishes for him, “You would be surprised what villages did to get the funds for supplies.”

Minato doesn’t add in his two cents; she sees her blunder.

—

“Are you trying to be philosophical?” she snorts and looks over at him lazily, “Unethical missions are the _reason_ why Konoha is feared as a militaristic country. Shinobi are tools and the Hokage is the wielder.”

Minato shakes his head, “See, that’s where I disagree with that logic. Regard you, soldiers, as children, and they will follow you into the deepest valets; look upon them as your own beloved sons, and they will stand by you even unto death.”

“Yes, _but_ : If however, you are indulgent, but unable to make your authority felt; kind-hearted, but unable to enforce your commands; and incapable, moreover, of quelling disorder: then your soldiers must be likened to spoilt children; they are useless for practical children,” Sakura recites and quirks a brow, “ _Mifune’s Art of War_ is a bit outdated, don’t you think? Children won’t walk through hell and high water for just anyone.”

He rolls ocean orbs, “It _is_ outdated, but the sentiment still rings through; it’s about a strong foundation. Konoha is the village hidden in the _leaves;_ a tree, whose roots are deeply embedded—”

She covers her palm over his mouth in a blatant effort to cut him off, but his lips are soft beneath her hand and they curve upwards. She can’t tell if it’s a smile or a smirk or something different altogether, it sends a tremor up her forearm and she drops her hand down. She looks at him, elbow in the space between the two of them, “I get it, no need to quote Hashirama-sama’s speech from the annual fall harvest.”

“You really _are_ a bookworm,” Minato raises his brows at that, he draws his bottom lip into his mouth, his teeth press into the flesh there before releasing gently and the indents on the pink of his lower lip warm her cheeks.

Sakura wonders if that was intentional.

“I just read,” Sakura huffs, “ _A lot_.”

“Clearly,”

“It’s not nice to use my quirks against me,”

“I think it’s _our_ quirks now,” Minato’s fingers tug a strand of pink hair and then sits up abruptly, “Don’t you?”

Sakura stares at him momentarily speechless by that and then sits up as well, slowly. She knows her hair is a mess – from the turning and tossing – and she feels it twist in different directions, but she doesn’t bother to fix it when she says, “I guess it is.”

“Please, reel in your _enthusiasm,_ ”

She’s startled into a laugh and swings her feet to touch the floor, “Sarcasm doesn’t become you.”

“How would you know?” Minato is standing now and when she turns to look at him, her nose brushes his bare chest.

Sakura stumbles backward at the suddenness of him, a gasp catches in the pit of her throat when his arm wounds itself around her lower back, she flinches when his fingers brush over the scars – scars that are still visible here in their realm of consciousness – and presses her palms over his pectoral muscle in response.

“Do they still hurt?” he is concerned now, she can tell by the furrow in his brow and the frown he displays. He slowly traces the line of the whip mark – starlight orbs pin her in place as he prods the marred skin, searching for any discomfort or signs of nervousness – then he slides his bare palm underneath her shirt, fingers tracing the raised flesh.

Sakura almost arches into him and she hides that fact with a sigh against his clavicle, “It doesn’t hurt, it just stings sometimes.”

“Stings?”

Sakura averts her eyes, “Phantom pains.”

Minato inhales and the air behind his teeth escape with a quiet hiss. His fingers slide up, his forearm pulling against the thin of her tank top, digits twisting in her hair as he angles her chin her up to his face and demands, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I thought I had it handled,” her neck strains, but his fingers dig into the muscles at her nape and it lessens the burden considerably, “And you’re the only one who—” she stumbles here, “—who touches them. Me, I mean.”

He licks his lips in thought – emerald orbs sharpen at that but then she presses her nails into the muscles of his pectorals – and gives him a push back. Her heart slams in the cavity of her chest, she doesn’t know why, but she needs—she doesn’t _know_ what she needs, actually. Sakura inhales, “You’re the only one.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

She furrows her brows at that – his hand has left her skin – they trail until they rest at the curve of her hip, the space is there, but somehow it feels like they’re closer, “What do you mean by that?”

Minato quirks a brow at that, blue eyes glint like sapphires in the sunset and he drawls out, “Do you want someone else to touch you?”

—

Sakura wakes up with a sharp gasp, she jerks – in a bed, there are kunai-printed sheets with Mr. Ukki, who sits on the windowsill – and she turns to look at the fresh wave of chakra from the right of the room.

“Easy,” Kakashi’s voice soothes the prickles of goosebumps that rise from her pores, he’s standing in the dark – it’s supposed to calm her, not make her twitchy – and walks closer to her. He raises his hands up placidly and takes a seat next to her—his bed, “You passed out by the time I got to you.”

“Minato,” Sakura rubs her hand down the side of her face, “Wanted to talk, and by talk, I mean save me.”

Kakashi raises his brows in surprise at that – at the familiarity or the explanation, she couldn’t tell – but pats her hand comfortingly, “Sakura, you don’t need saving.”

She almost smiles, “So, your room?”

“What?” he complains with mock-hurt and gestures to his room, “You don’t like my interior designing skills?”

“Sensei,” Sakura breathes and it borders on an exasperated whine, “You have _kunai-printed_ sheets.”

“Your point?”

She tosses a pillow at his face.

 _Kakashi hasn’t changed much I see,_ Minato is sprawled at the foot of her bed and the picture is so strange that she almost ogles at him, _His show of comfort is very, very awkward._

“How are you feeling?” Kakashi’s knees brush his mattress, he leans back into his chair and tosses the pillow back on the bed.

“I’m fine,” Sakura rubs her eyes in a move to distract herself from the men in the room, “I miss Inoichi-oji.”

“Ibiki is very good at his job, Sakura-chan,” he winces at her deadpanned look and coughs, “I tried to hold off on the interrogation, but Shikamaru insisted,” he pauses at that, “He said you and sensei have a routine.”

 _He’s not wrong,_ Minato smirks at her and she almost kicks him.

“Something like that,” Sakura shakes her head and looks over at Mr. Ukki, “He took them to that ANBU mental escape of his. I guess Ibiki-sama was pleased with that.”

“You’re right about that,” Kakashi groans, he pours her a cup of water from the side and hands it her, “He wanted to know _why the fuck didn’t I recruit her earlier_ , his words not mine.”

She snorts and drinks her water slowly, “You’re deflecting,”

“From?”

Sakura gives him a look, “Why didn’t you take me home?”

“Because my place is safer,”

Minato’s eyes narrow at that.

“I’m going to need an explanation, Hatake,” she tilts her head at him and then realizes that—she’s in her old pajamas. Kakashi’s stolen T-shirt, the one she hasn’t gotten rid of because it reminds her of her old sensei and helped her feel safe when her team disbanded all those years ago.

Kakashi puts a hand up, “Ino dressed you, not me.”

 _“Kakashi-sensei_ ,”

He sighs, “I may trust my ANBU with my life, keeping the village safe and protecting the citizens,” he crosses his arms and gives her a pointed look, “But I do _not_ trust them with you.”

Sakura stares at him for a moment, “I’m trying to figure out if that declaration was out of concern or it was sexist or it was just—” she struggles to find the word and finishes with, “A political move.”

“What if it’s all three?”

She shoves the blankets off her bare legs and makes a move to stand, but the Rokudaime pushes her back onto the mattress and tugs the blanket back over her legs. Kakashi gives her a stern glare, “You’re going to rest and eat, then you’re going see Ino for therapy—I’m sure she gives you that for _free._ ”

“I don’t want to sleep anymore,” Sakura rolls her eyes, but stays on the bed and crosses her arms underneath her chest, “I’ve been sleeping for an entire week and eating junk—I’m _fine._ ”

Kakashi does not look amused.

“ _Mostly_ fine,” she corrects exasperatedly and Minato sighs from the foot of the bed. He rolls over until his head is next to her knee, “And I’m fine with talking to Ino; I do it _all_ the time.”

“You know that’s _not_ what I meant,”

She _hate_ s that she can hear Minato in Kakashi’s voice.

Minato laughs at the fleeting thought right next to her covered knee, his voice tickles her fingertips and she itches to scrape her nails across the bed.

Sakura sucks in the left side of her cheek and then bites down on her tongue to prevent herself from saying something she will regret in the future. She inhales slowly and then slumps her shoulders in defeat, “Yeah, okay.”

Kakashi pats her head consolingly.

 _He's a bit patronizing, isn't he?_ Minato wonders thoughtfully and rests his head on her thigh, _Has he always been like that?_

Sakura almost snorts, _you're one to talk._

 _I am_ _not_ _patronizing,_ he retorts back offended.

 _No, but you are,_ she pauses and struggles to search for a word, to sum up, his behavior, but much to her dismay, she couldn't find any phrase nor syntax to describe such, _you are..._

 _—are what?_ Minato's in her face now, sitting on his knees, leaning over her and his hands twist in the sheets on either side of her knees. She almost gasps at the blue of his eyes, even when the gold of his eyelashes almost brushes her cheeks and the world mutes down to the definition of _almost_ and _nearly._

Sapphire orbs glint, they taunt her and the curve of his smirk is a dare.

Sakura wants to answer, she wants to give a retort just as witty, just as dangerous as he is _because_ —

"—are you okay, Sakura?" Kakashi is still sitting next to her, his fingers drag into pink strands – Minato's eyes narrow at that – there is a small, delicate wave of feminine glory that rises up like the splashes of a rippling wave that warms up her insides – and she squashes it down immediately.

Kakashi's fingers are in her hair and she can't tell if Minato is annoyed or—she can't read him or his thoughts.

"I'm fine," Sakura replies distractedly and drops back onto the pillow, "I would like a box of dango, if you will, sensei."

Kakashi rolls his eyes, "What about eggplant—"

"Yo boss," Pakkun calls out, his feet pitter-patter on the wooden floor, he runs into his bedroom and hops on the bed, "There are those ANBU guys at the door. Do you think—"

Pakkun pauses abruptly to stare at the blonde man resting his hand on his summoner's student's thigh and his tongue lolls out in disbelief, "Yondaime-sama?"

Sakura blinks rapidly, then sits up abruptly, her hair brushes the sides of her chest, Minato makes a move to sits on his knees, his hand still glued to her thighs and he looks at Kakashi's summon with surprise.

"You can see him, Pakkun?" she asks quickly, so quickly that she stumbles on the edge of her sentence.

“His hand is on your thigh,” Pakkun replies bluntly and then looks up at his summoner with confusion, “I thought he was dead?”

Kakashi blinks at the comment, his eyes flicker over to his student’s innocent thigh that’s half-covered by the blanket – to question _where on her thigh_ is just as lecherous as it is hypocritical – and lifts his gaze back to her face. He muses, “I thought so too.”

Minato’s fingers dig into the inner corner of her thigh.

Sakura exhales slow.

—

“Alcohol?” Sakura inquires with disbelief and crosses her arms underneath her chest, “ _That’s_ your solution?”

“Let’s be real,” Ino snorts and spins in her chair. She pauses abruptly and levels with her, “You’ve processed everything; that’s the thing with doctors having the doctors. You _know_ all the steps, you know how to heal and you don’t need to be lectured; _I get it._ You did most of the heavy-lifting, even the generic steps,” the Yamanaka clan head waves it away.

She starts again, “But what you don’t know – because I’m the _psych expert_ – is,” Sakura rolls her eyes at this, “The trauma will live with you for years, you can’t forget about it and you can’t ignore it, but what you can do is learn to _live_ with it.”

Sakura considers that and gives her another look, “And alcohol will solve this _how?_ ”

Ino groans with exasperation, “Sakura, you’ve basically had your mental breakdown already, you’ve already kicked yourself in the ass for breaking down, your nightmares have lessened, and now you’re trying to normalize it,” she snaps her fingers, “And alcohol will seal the deal.”

 _Are you sure she’s not Tsunade-sama’s apprentice?_ Minato adds amusedly.

“I fail to see your point,”

She scowls and slams her hands on the desk, “What don’t you _get,_ forehead-girl?”

Sakura’s eyebrow twitches, “How do I know this isn’t a scheme to get _yourself_ drunk, and in turn, drag me away from my work.”

Ino rubs her temples dramatically and mutters to herself, “How to get through forehead-girl’s _big brain_ ,” then she suddenly looks up, her bright blue jay orbs sparkle, “ _Be stern in the council-chamber; so that you may control the situation._ ”

Green eyes widen, “Did you just recite _Mifune’s_ text?”

“I do remember some quotes. You were obsessed with that book when we were kids,” Ino points out wistfully, “Whatever you recited while Tou-chan was giving flower lessons kind of stuck with me,” she shakes her head apologetically, “Anyway. The point is: you can’t let your fear control you. Take control of the fear before it controls you,” she pauses and slams her fist into her palm, “Or something like that.”

 _Interesting tactic,_ Minato comments from the seat next to her and his ankle brushes her bare toes, _Using philosophy to create a connection._

Sakura ignores him and admits, “You may have a point, pig.”

 _And you’re quite pleased with the outcome, now at least,_ he laughs.

“Is that a yes?”

There is a sudden bubble of elation at Ino’s attempts, it softens her up a bit and she almost smiles, “You know it is, Ino.”

Ino beams, “I always knew the way to that big brain of yours is some old guy’s preaching.”

Minato coughs dramatically.

It’s a blur from there, Ino ushers her back to Kakashi’s place – even though Sakura protests that she needs to go back to her apartment to pick up some supplies – the Yamanaka clan heir brushes her off and says, “I got it, forehead. Just go eat some rice or something.”

Sakura nearly roots out her hair in frustration.

“This is ridiculous, they’re treating me as if I’m some sort of invalid,” she throws herself onto Kakashi’s old, lump couch and groans.

“Your friends care about you,” Minato points out wisely and takes a seat on the handle of the sofa, “And they only want what’s best for you.”

“It’s so—”

“—patronizing?” he huffs and amused breath, “Sounds familiar.”

Sakura shoots him a baleful glare.

Ino comes back to the apartment with a bag full of _something,_ it’s a distraction, Sakura realizes. This entire charade is a distraction and she can’t find herself seeming to care that this is what it boils down to. The blonde pulls out something black and silky with a pair of heels.

“That is _not_ mine,” she remarks with obvious distaste.

“Obviously not,” Ino snorts and tosses the dress onto the couch, “As if _you_ would own something so fashionable.”

Sakura rolls emerald eyes and shoots her a look, “I’m not wearing it.”

“Yes you are,” she frowns, “You don’t own any dressy outfits other than the ones standard to nin gathering. You’re going to wear it and we’re going to get drunk. Then you’re going to have a whole life reflection thing and be okay with yourself. Remember that whole week, I thought you were acting out some type of drama _and_ it’s how you made Jounin remember?”

Sakura scowls at that.

Minato only manages to look curious, _Really?_

“I also punched Kaguya in the _face_ ,” she bites out and feels Minato’s shock wash over her.

Ino snorts, “The bitch deserved it,” then she pulls out the shortened kimono-styled dress, “Are you sure you don’t want to wear it? It’s made from silk, from _Suna._ ”

Sakura feels her resolve weaken and the feminine side of her that she tried to squash years ago – a few hours ago – floats upwards, “Suna silk?”

“ _Raw_ Suna silk,” she smiles sweetly and waves the black kimono dress provocatively.

She snatches the dress from Ino’s finely manicured nails without so much as a thought and holds it up closer to her face to inspect. It looks off-shoulder, the hem reaches her knee and it’s a bit more risqué than she likes, but _raw Suna silk_ holds all her attention.

Suna is known for the intricate fabrics, spider silk, cotton, satin, mesh, and cleaner fibers. Raw silk, is quite frankly, _expensive_ because it’s not easy to grow _and_ it’s even harder to put together. Each stitch has to be handmade and to mass-produce something of that caliber is more than just difficult—it requires high amounts of OCD.

As Ino would put it.

Furthermore, it’s very high in demand when it comes to shinobi.

Suna silk does not rip very easily, nor is it flammable. It’s in high demand for ANBU uniform – it seems appropriate when she glances down at her ANBU tattoo – it’s cooling on the skin, breathable and has unlimited mobility. Tsunade thinks that they stitch chakra into the fibers, but no sensor has been able to explain its unlimited durability; she would know, Hinata had also inspected the cloth when her father delivered it to her from a mission long ago.

The fact that Ino somehow to managed to grab this dress post-war and during reconstruction is highly suspicious. Sakura narrows her eyes, “How exactly did you get this?”

“Sai,” Ino shrugs casually and picks up her heels, “And these came from Chouji.”

“I believe I told you not to play with my teammate’s feelings,” she frowns.

“First of all,” she waves a finger, “It was a _gift_ , second of all, Chouji bought this for me after I managed to get his Elders off his back,” she sighs, “Clan politics are so _troublesome._ ”

“Oh, you’re _definitely_ Shikamaru’s teammate,” Sakura snorts and walks back into Kakashi’s bedroom. She calls out from the closed door, “By the way, what’s his problem?”

“Who? Shikamaru?”

Sakura pulls off her shirt and pants until she’s left in her underwear. She glances over at Minato – Minato who’s staring at her form very oblivious to her growing ire – she snaps her fingers in front of him, he blinks at the sudden sound and then she points tellingly to the wall.

 _You do realize I have seen you naked before, right?_ Minato raises a brow.

She hisses, flushes, and punctuates the last words of her exclamation with another jab of her forefinger, “Turn around, you—you _pervert!_ ”

Minato scowls at the accusation but turns around nonetheless.

“He’s going to be at _Nightshade,_ I guess you can ask him there,” Ino calls out from the other side of the door.

Sakura slips on the dress – it _is_ off-shoulder she notices with a wrinkle of her nose – zips it up the side and smoothens the fabric down her knees. There are no sleeves, so it hangs off her shoulders more elegantly, there is a dip in her breasts, and there’s an awkward space where her cleavage – that’s not really there – is supposed to fill.

She opens the door and walks out, “I don’t think it really fits.”

Minato follows her out the door, takes a seat on the handle of the armchair, observing the way as Ino walks up to her pink-haired best friend, and cups her breasts.

“ _Ino_!” Sakura squeaks as she feels the blonde gives them a squeeze and pushes them upwards, “What the _hell?_ ”

Minato falls off the armrest and onto the seat.

“What?” Ino frowns, “I’ve already seen you naked, Sakura. Also, don’t you have a push-up bra? I don’t understand why you don’t wear proper support; bindings are just not _it,”_ then she gives it another squeeze, “Did they _grow_?”

She squeaks again and pushes the Yamanaka clan heir off of her, “I wear bindings for training!”

“Okay, but in the hospital and when we have meetings—things like that, slip on a bra,” Ino puts her hands on her hips, “Unless you want to start sagging.”

Sakura rubs a hand down her face and looks down at her dress. She groans, “Whatever, just fix _it_.”

Ino grabs a few pins from her gym bag and some elastic. She grins mischievously, “Alright, don’t _move_.”

She lifts her arms up and mutters underneath her breath, “I’m already starting to regret this.”

Ino gives her bottom a pinch.

Sakura’s best friend, to Minato’s perspective, is _eccentric._ There is teasing – brutal as it may sound – is affectionate, she’s fiercely protective, loyal and snarky all the same. Minato winces, but she’s so _loud_ , and it grates on his very sensitive eardrums. That, he frowns in distaste, and – Ino’s fingers swipe over the swells of Sakura’s breasts – she’s very _touchy._

“If you’re done _harassing_ me,” the medic growls and tries to shove her dress downwards, but that forces her neckline to drop even lower and reveal more skin.

Ino ties the obi just underneath her chest and she just can’t but help give her breasts another squeeze.

“Ino!”

The blonde laughs, “Sorry, it’s just too much fun messing with you.”

Sakura grumbles underneath her breath.

Ino takes Sakura’s hair – which has been steadily growing over the past months and now reaches her upper ribs – and pulls it to the side. The movement exposes her back, just above her lumbar vertebrae and the Yamanaka clan heir can see the _destruction_ marred on her skin _._

Minato stiffens.

“Tell me,” Sakura scratches the side of her cheek restlessly, emerald eyes pinning Minato to his seat on the armchair, “How bad is it?”

“It’s,” Ino’s voice hitches and she hesitates, “I’m not going to lie to you Sakura, it’s not pretty.”

She grimaces and makes a move to hide the scar with her hair, but Minato grabs her hand before she can even blink _._

Storm-colored eyes catch emerald green.

“Don’t,” Ino says sternly and glares at her, “Those scars are not your war trophies, they are not your mistakes and they are not your souvenirs. They are a mark of your survival and you will wear them proudly.”

Minato smiles and drops her hand, _Couldn’t have said it better myself._

Sakura blinks at her and then swallows.

“You think I don’t know what’s going in that big forehead brain of yours?” Ino scoffs and twists her hair into a bun, “Give me some credit, _please_.”

The pink-haired medic knows, deep down, somewhere inside of her, that she is blessed to have such a support system and she thinks Ino—the entirety of Rookie Nine feels the same way. There is a bond, formed not by convenience, but by familiarity and growth. It’s affection mixed with professionalism. From a sproutling, it merged into the soul and wrapped them together in this earth.

But with him, it’s not the _same._

Sakura turns back to look at Minato, who is now holding her hand in his.

Minato is not the same.

Because their relationship is something, not even she can define.

—

Minato forgot what it was like to have a social life.

That much is evident when Ino drags Sakura out of Kakashi’s apartment, down the street, and to _Nightshade_ down the village path, three streets from Ichiraku and an avenue from that BBQ joint Obito used to gravitate towards. There are eyes on her, on her bare skin, tracing the features of her face, the pink of her hair, and the sharp contrast of obsidian over satin is what they fix their gaze on.

But they _stop_ looking when they see the marks on her back.

Minato grits his teeth at that.

 _Is there a reason you’re angry?_ Sakura asks casually as she ducks under the banner to the bar and takes a seat closest to the corner of the room.

 _What?_ he snaps his gaze back to her.

 _You’re irritated,_ she replies slowly and gives him a strange look, _By what? I don’t know._

“Sake or shochu?” Ino leans over their table. She’s wearing her standard purple outfit but trades in her short skirt for a maxi with a slit going up the middle—also made from Suna silk.

“Sake,” Sakura replies immediately, crosses her arms underneath her chest – it pushes her breasts up but Minato isn’t looking, he _swears_ – and adds in, “Make sure it’s warm.”

Ino rolls her eyes and walks to the counter, “Yes, yes Hokage-sama.”

“I wish people would stop calling me that,” she grumbles and pokes the bowl of rice crackers on her table with disinterest.

“What? Hokage-sama?” Minato takes a seat next to her, in such close quarters, it causes his knee to brush her bare leg and she’s sure if he were a real person, she’d be able to feel the heat of him engulf her.

“Yes,” Sakura groans and leans back into her chair, “Evidently, I am _not_ the Hokage.”

“You could be,” he chuckles at that, his ire forgotten at her scowl.

“I don’t want to be,” she argues.

“I know,” Minato supplies and stares at the silk of her dress.

He bites his tongue, there’s a comment that travels to the insides of his cheeks and he rolls the sentence around in his mouth before swallowing it back. He’s not sure if she needs a compliment or reassurance from him and he doesn’t want to seem like he’s being, needy, but he _wants_ to pay her a compliment; there is no reason not to.

Sakura’s dress, is in a word: _powerful._

It demands attention, but it’s feminine enough to highlight the slope of her nose, the curve of her lips, the sharpness of her cheekbone, and the colors that make Sakura, _Sakura._ It’s like someone tried to hold the moon hostage, but the light can never truly be suppressed.

“You know,” Minato decides to tell her after all, not because he _needs_ to, but because he _wants_ to. “You look incredible, right?”

Sakura stares at him for a moment, he can feel traces of her embarrassment, pride, shyness, and something soft wash over him in small prickles. She looks away for a few seconds, simply a loss for words, “Thanks, I think.”

He rolls his eyes; he should’ve expected that he supposed.

Minato swings an arm over her shoulders, tugs her closer to him and she is helpless to the suddenness of the movement. Sakura looks up at him in surprise and a tiny bit of curiosity. He drawls out, “What’s it going to take for you to accept a compliment?”

She’s quick on the retort, “Time, I suppose.”

He leans back, but doesn’t remove his arm and considers that answer for a moment. He nods his head, blonde hair tickles the side of her ear and she almost makes a move to scratch it, but then he sky-blue orbs catch jade, “Time, I suppose I can give you that.”

Sakura frowns, “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Are you sure?” Minato gives her a half-smile and his hand squeezes her shoulder.

“You don’t think I’m damaged?” she blurts the question out dryly. It’s _the_ question, one that she’s been dying to ask for the longest while, but it’s her pride and vanity that holds her back. She knows, that it’s petty to think about things like this, superficial things because she’s a _shinobi,_ but still—there is a weak part of her that _demands_ to know.

Minato catches her chin with strong fingers, brings her closer to his face – just like in their subconscious – and holds her there. “I never want to hear you say those words again. _Ever._ ”

Sakura watches him and then sighs with exasperation, “Minato—”

“—no,” he cuts her off before she can fall in that hole of self-depreciation. Sakura was doing so well before, he needs to reinforce those thoughts with his will and determination, “You are unbreakable. Do you hear me? _Unbreakable_ ,” he licks his lips and stares down at her, “You’re beautiful, you know,” he says it like it’s a fact, one that cannot be denied and asks, “What will it take to erase those thoughts you have in that head of yours?”

Her heart thuds in her eardrums at that, the grip on her chin loosens, and he gives her a choice. She has a choice, to leave, to walk away and pretend the intimacy of this conversation never happened, but she doesn’t _want_ to.

Ino’s words, Kakashi’s words, her teammate's words, they held weight, but Minato’s words are a _conviction._

She doesn’t know when they started to hold more precedents

“Will you mean it?” Sakura almost tilts her head in thought, emerald eyes sharpen at the crackle in lightning in sapphire orbs, and tilts his head until his blonde hair caresses the top of her cheekbones.

Minato breathes a chuckle, “You really are—”

“—sake! Ugh, men are so _slow_ ,” Ino drops the cup on the table – Sakura jerks back at the noise and faces the table – takes a seat opposite of her and swirls her very pink drink, “I’ve had at least three guys offer to buy me _a_ drink when I said I needed _two._ ”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Sakura points out and grabs her cup; Minato’s arm tightens around her shoulders, her head brushes the back of his clavicle.

“Buying me a drink? Yes, of course, but I said _two._ They should _know_ simple math,” she rolls baby-blue orbs and presses a hand to her cheek, “Is it warm enough for you?”

She thinks a tentative sip, rolling the liquid around her cheek before swallowing. The burn is pleasant and tints her cheek in carnations, “It’s _perfect_.”

Ino giggles at Sakura’s languid expression, “Yeah? That’s good. Shikamaru and the boys should be joining soon.”

“How did you manage to rope them into this?” Sakura raises a pink brow and Minato’s fingers tug at the fine hairs at the back of her neck absently.

“Hokage-sama did actually,” she corrects and takes a sip of her cocktail, “Shikamaru said he basically kicked them out of the tower and said to go be kids or something.”

“We’re in our twenties,”

“Shikamaru isn’t going to ask questions,” Ino snorts, “He’s going to take Kakashi-sensei’s newfound irritation and run for the hills. He probably slept or hid underneath Mitsuki’s Willow to cloud watch; Shikamaru things.”

“And the drinking thing?”

“I told him he owed you for shoving you into an interrogation,” she huffs and slams a hand on the table, “He _owes_ you an explanation.”

“I do,” Shikamaru’s voice breaks through Ino’s irritation and it’s enough to have Sakura look up. Shikamaru stands on the left of the table, with Naruto, Sasuke, Sai, and Chouji trailing behind them. The Nara clan heir rubs the back of his neck, “Sorry about that, Sakura.”

“She’s going to need more than an _apology,_ you idiot,” Ino scowls and points the chair next to her pink-haired best friend.

“Sakura-chan,” Naruto greets her softly, he’s hesitant in the way he treats her, but the pink-haired medic opens her arms and huffs not even a breath later, “Get over here, you idiot.”

Naruto hugs her gently and tells her next to her ear, “Sorry about that other day.”

Sakura looks at him with a bit of shock, he looks properly scolded, but something is different about him. She shakes her head, “Don’t worry about it Naruto,”

Minato’s arm slips off of her to accommodate her blond teammate, he opts to rest his palm on her thigh instead, fingers tucking around the limb just above the knee.

Naruto and Sasuke decide to take a seat next to Ino, Sai leaves the table with Chouji to grab some drinks and Shikamaru takes a seat next to the Hokage’s apprentice. He clears his throat, “One of the reasons I decided to get the interrogation over with is because you were already unconscious, and probably better equipped to deal with the situation.”

It’s what Shikamaru isn’t saying that has her eyes narrowing.

“You thought me unconscious was the best way to move forward?” Sakura inquires with a raised brow.

“Given the other prospects? Yes,” Shikamaru give heed to that, “You… have the advantage.”

“Is that code for something?” Ino interjects sharply.

He shrugs, “Confidential.”

 _He’s quite sharp,_ Minato comments lightly and his thumb swipes over the skin just above under her dress, _He knew that I would do anything to keep you safe while they did their mental investigation._

 _Yeah, but how would he know that?_ Sakura doesn’t disagree with that statement.

_Intuition?_

_That’s too easy._

Minato shrugs, _The hardest questions usually have the simplest answers._

“And the procedure?” Sakura presses and grabs her cup from the table, “What did that entail?”

“Minute mental stimulation,” Ino answers for him, “Emotional cutoff and chakra suppression,” she winces, “That’s why you were so sick after. You have a lot of chakra because we suppressed it _again,_ you got the symptoms from the poison’s feedback.”

Shikamaru smiles apologetically and leans in to whisper in her ear, “There’s an uprising. I’ve contained it for now, but most fires don’t need a spark to light; I needed to keep you safe.”

Sakura’s eyes widen at that – a faint click snaps in the back of her head – and she turns to look at him, “What?”

He shakes his head and mumbles underneath his breath, “Later.”

 _Cryptic,_ Minato’s voice is calm, almost indolent, but she can feel the way his fingers stiffen on her thigh, blunt nails digging into the flesh there, _But not a necessity._

 _Not now,_ Sakura agrees with that, _If Shikamaru handled, that means he bought us some time. The real question is, where?_

 _It could be Mist, you still haven’t had a debriefing yet,_ he points out, _Shikamaru and Kakashi are trying to even out the playing field._

 _Temporary peace,_ she sighs internally, _How much longer can I pretend?_

Minato’s fingers dig into the back of her thigh – she squeezes her cup in surprise and bites the inner corner of her cheek – and exhales, _Until the lie becomes the truth._

“Say something, you bastard,” Naruto hisses and shoves his shoulder into Sasuke’s.

Sakura blinks at that, distracted, and finally notices her broody teammate, “What?”

“What?” Chouji comes back with a tray full of alcohol and Sai holds another tray full of cutters, “I got sake and shochu, both hot and cold.”

“Here emo,” Sai drops a platter of yakitori and tomato snaps, “Dickless told me that you had a preference for tomatoes, I do not see why. They look like nipp—”

Chouji slaps a hand over Sai’s mouth and scowls, “Not in front of the _food_.”

Ino muffles a laugh behind her hand and takes a stick of yakitori, “At least it’s not ramen.”

Naruto puts a hand on his chest, “ _Hurtful._ ”

“You’re starting to sound like sensei, Naruto,” Sakura laughs and pops a gyoza into her mouth.

“Kakashi-sensei is such a slave driver, “ he groans, takes a cup of shochu, and downs it in one go, “He wouldn’t even let me take Hinata-chan out to lunch!”

Shikamaru snorts, “You’re telling me?”

“It’s probably the fallout,” she mediates, “Foreign matters are not the easiest conversations to have.”

“It wasn’t even foreign politics,” he grumbles, “I had to decode _another_ stupid letter.”

Sakura tunes them out after this, she finishes her cup of sake and grabs another warm one from the tray. She sips it slowly, the heat accumulates at the back of her neck and it settles somewhere in the base of her spine. She can feel bits of the tension sliding off her shoulders from this month, Minato tucks her closer into the pocket of his shoulder and chest.

 _Feeling better?_ he asks when he feels her body lax into his.

 _It’s been a long month,_ Sakura replies.

 _Yes,_ Minato sighs and it’s like a wash of warm air at the back of her neck, _Yes it has._

Sakura doesn’t know how much time passes, but all she knows is that her pyramid of cups is getting bigger. Minato has enough sense to stop her, but lacks the courage to do so – she had given him a glare as if a demon came to possess her soul when he mentioned a cup of water – and so, he just sits there, his thumb rubbing absent circles on her leg.

“Where are _you_ going?” Ino asks pointedly as Sakura gets up from her seat.

“The bathroom,” Sakura raises a brow at the question, her face is warm and her body is lax, but chakra metabolization keeps her head clear.

“Oh,” she pauses, “Want me to come with?”

“Why do girls have to go to the bathroom together?” Naruto slurs into Sai’s neck, “What do they even do in there?”

“Well,” Sai starts and grabs a stick of yakitori, “If you must know, according to my research—”

“—I’m fine,” Sakura cuts of Sai’s speech – she doesn’t need to hear it, she _swears_ – and looks at her idiot teammates, “Make sure they don’t do anything illegal.”

Ino blanches at the not-so-subtle reminder of their destructive tendencies.

Sakura wobbles on her heels – she hates these stupid stilettos, if she’s going to wear heels they might as well be the block ones or those wedges – she likes stability and these needle-like things weren’t going to cut it.

Minato hand presses against her lower back to steady her, she’s grateful for the assistance, but still frowns at him anyway—it’s the embarrassment, this he knows, feels.

He smiles at her sweetly.

She huffs and mumbles something threatening underneath her breath.

Minato laughs and she walks to the bathroom. She splashes some water on her face – desperately hoping that it will cool the reddish hue of her cheeks – and loosens the bun at the top of her head.

“I’m not a big fan of buns,” Sakura states exasperatedly, she runs her fingers through her hair and untangles the uneven waves, “Hurts my scalp.”

Minato brings his fingers into her hair, blunt nails scratch the surface of her skull, she closes her eyes and groans when he soothes the inflammation of the sensitive skin. She drops her head back, the pads of fingers scrape _wonderfully_ down the back of her neck, “If you keep doing this, I’m going to fall asleep.”

He chuckles and works behind her ears, “You _like_ it.”

Sakura hums deep in her throat, “I wonder if this is how Pakkun feels.”

Minato laughs a bit louder and presses the pressure point just at the base of her neck, “Just how drunk are you?”

“I’m a solid six,”

“On what scale?”

“Eleven,”

“Do I want to even know why the scale is an odd-number?” he sounds curious, but then his fingers drop to her shoulders and she groans he presses into a knot there.

“Does it bring out your OCD?”

Minato’s fingers suddenly take root in her hair, he yanks her backward, not roughly, but not gently either. He narrows ocean orbs at her, “I do _not_ have OCD.”

Sakura smirks playfully and rests her head on his collarbone, “Are you sure?”

His mouth brushes her ear and she almost staggers in his arms, “Sakura—”

“Yes?” she smiles with a bit of teeth, her eyes crinkle at the sides and the sweetness of it takes his breath away. He hasn’t seen that smile – he doesn’t think he has _ever_ seen _that_ smile – for some time now. He presses his fingers on the scars at her back and she blinks slowly, “Doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“That’s good,” Minato answers softly, “Want to go home—back to the apartment?”

Sakura nods and stands up, “Yeah, need to sleep this off.”

Minato watches her walk towards the door, when she slides it open, she sees Sasuke resting against the wall opposite of the supply closet; he’s waiting for her.

“Sasuke?” she frowns and walks over to him, slowly, “What are you doing?”

Sasuke bites the inside of his cheek, he manages to look both uncomfortable and remorseful when he says, “I thought I got them all, Sakura. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”

Sakura looks at him with raised brows; it was much of an apology as she’s going to get from him, but somehow, this feels _different._ He looks physically uncomfortable by this conversation, but the way his fingers twitch at his sides tells her that he’s _trying._

Truth be told, Sakura doesn’t know _how_ she feels about Sasuke. Moreover, she doesn’t know what to say to him. She can feel Minato’s _rage_ brewing in the back of her skull, black ribbons crisscrossing at the back of her neck, and slithering down her spine. His fury is awesome and it nearly blinds her— _nearly._

Sakura thinks she’s numb to it all, but she can’t deal with it right now.

She needs a bit more time to deal with him, so she inhales slow and pushes back the static to the back of her mind.

Sasuke’s intentions – her instincts never lie, even when drunk – are _sincere_ and that makes this even more strange, “I know, Sasuke.”

“Do you really?” Sasuke looks at her warily.

She almost hesitates at his question and then frowns, “What the hell _happened_ while I was gone?”

He sighs, “You’ll find out tomorrow, I guess.”

“Tomorrow?” she puts her hands on her hips.

“Kakashi is giving calling for a meeting tomorrow; all those essential to the Kage,”

“So his staff?” Sakura inquires a-matter-of-factly.

“Almost,” Sasuke nods and then turns to face the hallway, “C’mon, I’ll take you home.”

_I think I like him more when he’s prickly._

_Sasuke has always been a prickly bastard,_ Sakura sniffs.

There is a dip of resentment bubbling in the pit of her stomach, it’s settling, however. She is disoriented to it, to Sasuke, she knows not to expect anything from him, but if he’s angling for redemption, she’s not going to make it easy for him.

 _If he’s this affable when he’s concerned,_ Minato says dryly, _I’d hate to see how bad he is at being nice._

—

Sasuke drops her at the front of Kakashi’s apartment and left with a wave.

“His social skills are diminishing,” Sakura grumbles, she presses her fingertips to the chakra pad on the left side of the door and unlocks it, “I’m going to have to get Kakashi to send him out on more missions with Sai—it’ll be almost like a penalty.”

“Do you think that will help?” Minato snorts.

“Can’t hurt to try,” she chuckles under her breath and pulls her hair to the right side of her body, her kimono already riding up her thighs as she stretches, “I wonder if sensei is asleep,”

“He’s not on the couch.”

Sakura frowns and walks into the living room. When she turns back around, she sees the fog from the bathroom washing over the kitchen’s light and Kakashi appears in front of her.

He’s wet with water from the shower, silver drops drip down his chest, his abdomen that sinks into his white, cotton towel that’s slung around his waist, and his face is _bare._

She has waited _years_ for this moment.

His jaw is angular, fair from the years of sun, a tan line just at his nose, very faint stubble, a small beauty mark on his chin, the curve of his nose almost distracts her from the sharpness in his cheekbones and his lips are thin as they part.

Sakura gapes.

Kakashi stares at her in mild disbelief and breathes, “Sakura.”

Minato feels Sakura's desire, hot and heavy, so sharp and overwhelming that it nearly brings him to his knees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, let's speed it up.   
> Also, am I evil? Probably.  
> Trust the process >:)


	12. jovian

“This is a terrible idea,” Sakura hears Ino grumble from across the sidelines, she tightens the strap of her leather glove on her wrist and exhales slowly.

“What are you talking about Ino?” Naruto scowls and puts his hands on his hips, “Sakura-chan can pummel Kakashi-sensei straight into the ground.”

“Her _injuries_ , you idiot!”

“She healed them,” Sasuke points out from a tree branch, “Before you did, all you had to do was deal with her exhaustion.”

“What the hell does _that_ mean?”

“Sakura is perfectly capable of taking care of herself,” Shikamaru cuts in smoothly and cocks his shoulder against hers, “And if our Hokage-sama thinks she needs to pick up training again, then it’s up to her to say no, right?”

Ino frowns, “Traitor.”

“I think that’s reserved for the emo over here,” Sai points out.

The bickering – even when she’s the subject of the matter – is spoken around her, as if she’s not even there and it should irritate her, but Minato interjects that they are only _concerned_ for her well-being.

She gets it, she does, but—

“—I may not be looking at you lot, but I’m not _deaf,_ ” Sakura calls out sharply from her stature on the field; she couldn’t help that outburst, not even if she tried. Her tension from her last mission has run out, only acceptance is left, but that doesn’t mean she wants her teammates, her friends, walking on _eggshells_ around her.

She’s not going to _break_ ; she hesitates with the strap at her boots, at least not in front of them.

 _What happened to your self-control?_ Minato almost chuckles when she shoots him a look of irritation.

 _You’re one to talk,_ Sakura replies snippily.

Truthfully, Sakura doesn’t know why she was so annoyed. She had always seen her temper as a weakness, one that led to impulse and irrational decisions, but it had suited her personality when it came down to her fighting style.

Brute strength and short-ranged fighting; each blow a deadly blast.

But she had mellowed out with time. She’s a lot more level-headed, compared to her teammates at least, but she doesn’t need brute strength to disable her opponent, though, it was more _exhilarating_ when she did.

 _You can’t equate temper with technique, Sakura,_ Minato interrupts her train of thought and he frowns at her own evaluation, _it’s similar yes, but think about it this way: tiny girl and inhuman strength._

_I am not tiny,_

Minato hesitates, _Petite?_

 _You are horrible with compliments,_ Sakura snorts internally and pulls her hair back into a high ponytail.

 _I wasn’t trying to compliment you,_ he shoots back with a scowl – for a moment she’s startled by his uncharacteristic short burst of anger – and crosses his arms over his chest.

He’s still wearing his ANBU uniform, minus the armor and mask of course. She does miss his headband, the square brace makes him look even more dangerous and she’s not sure _why_ that makes the back of her neck heat up.

Sakura glances over at the wooden posts briefly.

Okay, she _does_ know why, but that doesn’t mean she’s going to _acknowledge_ it.

She looks back at him and raises a brow, _then what are you trying to do?_

Minato pins her a look of something she cannot define, blue eyes crackle with hurricanes and salt.

Sakura doesn’t have to force herself to look away.

“Oh, we have an audience,” Kakashi appears on the tree branch above her and suddenly, she’s reminded _why_ she’s so irritated.

It was _Kakashi._

Last night, was a little too much for Sakura to handle.

First of all, she did not expect to see Kakashi unmasked, _ever._ It was an unspoken rule: no one _touches_ the mask. No one sees _behind_ the mask. No one _looks_ under the mask.

Second of all, she did not think that she would be seeing Kakashi half-naked, wet – physical examinations do not _count_! Those are strictly for medical and professional purposes only – and in only in a towel.

Third of all, she did not to expect to be _attracted_ to Kakashi of all people—she doesn’t have the _time_ to deal with _this._

Yes, this is entirely Kakashi’s _fault._

Sakura is both _ecstatic_ and _grateful_ that the man decided to keep his face covered; the entire world depends on it.

Sometimes, she really _hates_ her hormones.

Minato doesn’t help that part of her makeup one _bit._

“Sakura-chan, why are you scowling at that poor tree?” Kakashi wonders from above and she hears the fresh swipe of paper; his book.

“It’s not the tree I’m frowning at,” Sakura grumbles underneath her breath.

“Ah, it’s sensei isn’t it?” he makes a noise of interest and flips another page, “He wasn’t the best with women.”

Minato scowls.

“You aren’t either, Hokage-sama,” she snorts.

Kakashi leaps from the tree in front of her, the knowing look he gives her causes her breath to hitch and she almost takes a step back, “Are you sure?”

Sakura’s eyes widen at that, but then he gives her a wink and uses shunshin to reach the middle of the field.

She stares at the empty space in front of her, _I—_

 _—flirting? Since when has he started flirting with you?_ Minato scowls in disbelief and his shoulder brushes the edge of her ear.

 _That was not flirting,_ Sakura rubs her face with exasperation and then pauses to look at him, _was it?_

Minato looks down at her, from her position and she has to crane her head up to level with him. His eyes crackle, like lightning, the blue of his iris shimmers and he walks towards her; _closer_. When he places his hand on the tree trunk beside her and leans down, she stumbles backward. Sakura’s back hits the tree trunk, one arm caging her, and emerald orbs widen at their proximity.

Minato leans closer and Sakura couldn’t help but laugh at the stereotypical manga-move. He loses his composure too, he ends up dropping his face into her neck and his laughter tickles the side of her throat.

“Kakashi was _right,_ ” she snickers and presses her head back into the wood. Sakura looks at him with jade eyes, “You _are_ terrible with women.”

“That was before I got married,” Minato agrees with that and pulls back. He gives her a once-over and tilts his head in consideration, “I would like to think I picked up _some_ skills.”

“Husband skills?” Sakura stands up straighter and crosses her arm underneath her chest.

The look he gives her is of steel and heat, sapphire and silver. He gives her a half-smirk and insinuates, “Among other things.”

Thoughtfully, she runs her tongue over the front of her teeth, the quick flash of pink flesh draws his eyes in, and she straightens her shoulders to give him another look; it’s unreadable, but there is _something._

Minato doesn’t need to see it to _feel_ it.

“Are you ready, Sakura-chan?” Kakashi calls out from the other side of the field and it pulls her away from her—their world. Minato doesn’t leave though, he stands behind her, a hand rests on her lower back and presses her forward.

Sakura heaves an exhale as his fingers slide up her spine and Minato drops his head down to whisper in her ear, “I’m right here.”

_I know._

“Are you going to put away your book, Hokage-sama?” Sakura quirks a brow and straightens her stance.

“For you?” Kakashi quirks a brow and pockets his book into his back pouch with a smile, “Anything.”

“Kiss-up,” Naruto mumbles next to Sasuke.

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere, Kakashi-sensei,” she scoffs and extends her left foot back.

“I wasn’t trying to flatter you,” his eyes crinkle at the sides.

Minato snorts and takes a seat on a nearby tree, _Liar._

“Rules?” Sakura deflects the statement with an eye-roll.

“All-out,”

She blinks, “Are you sure? It’s just a spar.”

“Don’t you want to get rid of some of that pent-up frustrations?”

Sakura stares at him for a moment, mouth agape and wide-eyed.

He smiles at her sweetly.

“What is he talking about?” Ino asks suspiciously.

Sakura scowls furiously, digs her foot into the ground, and _attacks_ first.

Kakashi’s expecting her, however, he ducks underneath her fist and grits his teeth when a chakra-infused knee is pressed into the palm of his hands in reflex. She anticipates him to toss her on the ground because of that, so she hooks her ankle against his knee, digs her fingers into the earth, and flings him upwards.

Sakura prefers wearing a skirt for full-motion attacks, but she can’t help but adore these shinobi pants. Cotton they are, but resistant to kunai and they stick to her legs in a sleek pattern. Kakashi can’t cut her with the metal of his fingerless gloves and has to result in grabbing a shuriken from his thigh holster.

He doesn’t like using elemental jutsu with her because of the terrain they’re in – even though it’s one of her weak points – and Sakura can quite literally cause a national disaster with those fist of hers.

Kakashi regrets answering with an _all-out_ spar.

Sakura slams a foot into the ground, which causes him to leap into the air to avoid the shards of earth, but she doesn’t hesitate to come after him.

“You’re so aggressive today,” Kakashi comments lightly and dodges a blow, he swings his foot upwards and she twists to the left.

“You started it,” Sakura exhales and leaps to a nearby tree.

He activates his sharingan.

“I guess I did,” he laughs lightly and makes half a ram seal, “Water Style: _Water Clone Jutsu_.”

Instead of the two water clones – the number she usually gets – Kakashi makes fifty, well almost fifty. Sakura’s eyes widen at the number of clones that scatter on the field and she frowns, “You’re just showing off now.”

“I can’t let my cute students get better than me,” he winks and with a wave of his fingers they shift into position, “I _am_ the Hokage.”

Sakura smiles and Kakashi sees the glint in her eyes and realizes with mild trepidation that he walked straight into a trap.

And Sakura _flashes._

—

 _That’s why you waited to use the hiraishin,_ Minato realizes with heated approval and he watches her flash from the side of the field, _you wanted to perfect it._

 _No time like the present,_ Sakura huffs and flashes again, _How’s my form?_

He throws his head back and laughs, _Flawless._

She grins at that, slams a fist into a clone, kunai in her other hand she swipes and flashes again.

“She’s so _fast,_ ” Ino whispers to Shikamaru in shock, “Isn’t that the Hiraishin?”

Shikamaru smirks, “Yeah. If her teammates happened to be descendants of Gods, I don’t see why she can’t pick up some more skills.”

Kakashi can’t track her with his sharingan. The hiraishin is essentially a time-space ninjutsu, there’s no chakra to trace and it blindsides him when she takes out his clones without stopping to breathe.

 _I told you it was a good idea to up my training after Mist,_ Sakura prods back with a haughty exhale, _Kakashi can’t even see me._

Minato rolls his eyes, _I wanted you to take a break—I didn’t realize you get bored so easily._

 _I like having something to do,_ she replies and slams another clone into a tree. The tree snaps in half and litters the ground in large, wooden splinters.

The thing with water clones is that it holds more weight than say a shadow clone or a lightning clone, Kakashi’s specialty. There’s more power, chakra, and skill that translates to the clone from the original user, so when she slams a fist into its chest cavity, the weight of it registers in the back of her brain and settles there.

Sakura feels him setting a layer of genjutsu, but she dispels it with a quick twitch of the fingers. The movement is so quick, that Kakashi hasn’t even noticed. She flashes again and kicks a clone into the river before slamming a fist near Kakashi’s feet.

Kakashi hisses when a shard of earth cuts the side of his face, “You’ve been practicing.”

“Obviously,” Sakura exhales and activates her chakra scalpel. Jade orbs narrow, she jumps back onto a nearby tree branch – the one Minato is sitting on – and places a hand on her hip, “You do know, that I only need one hit to win, right?”

He grins, “Of course, but who says you’re going to get that?”

She frowns.

“Water Style: _Water Dragon Bullet_ ,” Kakashi summons the water dragon with three half-seals – he burns his chakra pathways when he does this; his control isn’t _that_ great – and Sakura leaps into the air before it manages to form.

Sakura flashes in a dizzying pattern, Kakashi’s sharingan can’t keep up with the speed of her movements because she cuts her chakra before it makes its presence known, it’s almost like a ghosting technique – there is a presence but not enough for it to solidify – and decides to circle himself in a defensive position with his dragon. That way he can look at all angles before attacking because he can’t _see_ Sakura and so he can’t pin a location of the attack.

 _How the hell am I supposed to get close to him if I can’t penetrate that water barrier?_ Sakura asks a rhetorical question, masks her presence with a low-level genjutsu and a B-rank camouflage illusion.

Minato’s fingers grasp her ankle, the suede of her boot prickles his fingertips, and he thinks, _Do you know any long-range attacks?_

 _Barely,_ Sakura groans.

He racks his brain for a jutsu, _you can use Lightning Fang._

_Which is?_

Minato’s finger runs over the hidden bone and explains, _Lightning Fang sends bolts of electricity in an attempt to electrocute their opponent. Think of it as a smaller version of the Chidori, but with more control. It’s a bolt of lightning, not a ball._

_I don’t have a lightning affinity, remember?_

_We’ve had this conversation before,_ Minato shakes his head, _you can use different elemental techniques, you just have to practice it; we aren’t born prodigies._

 _That’s when I combined them with medical jutsu, Minato,_ Sakura replies back with exasperation, _I haven’t tried it for just purely offense or without another method._

 _Just focus okay,_ he instructs soothingly, _you need a blade to channel it—you’re going to have to improvise. Pool your chakra into the kunai, transform it into lightning, and neutralize the kickback. Once you have a foundation, fling it forward._

She stares at him with disbelief, _I have no idea what you’re saying._

Minato rolls his eyes, _you’ll be fine,_ he gives her ankle a squeeze and points back at Kakashi who is still looking for her, _now, finish this._

Sakura sighs with exasperation, but it’s the blue of his eyes that gives her hope.

_No hand-seals?_

He shakes his head, _No hand-seals; strictly theoretical,_ he gives her an amused look, _our specialty, remember?_

She turns her head to hide her smile.

But Minato feels it all the same.

Sakura dismantles her genjutsu and flickers.

Kakashi feels her before he sees her.

Sakura is a flash of pink, petals that resemble sunsets and as calming as that may sound, it’s just as dangerous. He can’t but wonder, what on _earth_ she’s planning, using his sharingan – while efficient – wouldn’t do any good if he can’t narrow on her location, his Kamui needs to be worked on because his stamina for it is strained due to him not having a bloodline, and his Susanoo isn’t the best option in a place like this.

He grits his teeth at the setbacks.

But then she flashes until she’s a few hundred meters in front of him a kunai – she prefers using her fists – in front of him. He pools his chakra to his fingertips and is about to maneuver the dragon to slam into her form when—

“—Raiton: _Raiga,_ ” Sakura shoves the ball of lightning from her kunai at him and it acts as a double-sided blade.

Kakashi ends up frying his own chakra pathways from the release.

She knows that she could’ve used an earth jutsu to neutralize the water, but using lightning would end up working in her favor because even though Kakashi has an affinity for lightning, that doesn’t exclude him from immunity. Instead, it will force the Hokage to drop the dragon in favor of shaking off the electric shock and random jolts of lightning that flows through his limbs.

Which gives Sakura _exactly_ enough time to wrap an arm around his neck and a place a hand flat against his chest, it’s a mock embrace, one that forces her to dig her chin into his shoulder and has Minato stiffening at the intimacy. She demands, “Yield.”

Kakashi drops his hands.

Naruto chokes.

—

“I see Minato-sensei is teaching you more than just the hiraishin,” Kakashi groans when she pops his shoulder back into the socket.

“He likes to work on my speed,” Sakura comments lightly and presses her chakra into the tendon to ease the sting, “I have learned a handful of random jutsus but I usually just make them up on the fly.”

“That was the first time you activated the technique?”

She nods and moves her hand to knit back the skin at his ripped mask, “I don’t have a medium to funnel my chakra to so I just used a kunai and hoped that it worked.”

Kakashi sighs, “You always did work best with theory.”

“It’s the application that I had to worry about,”

“I think you did well,” he praises her quietly.

Minato stands in between them.

“I can’t believe you beat Kakashi-sensei,” Naruto appears next to them with a scowl and crosses his arms underneath his chest.

“I can’t believe you learned the Hiraishin in like what? A month?” Ino remarks in incredulity and places her hands on her hips, “That’s insane.”

“Probably,” Sakura agrees and makes a move to stand up.

Sasuke steadies her on her feet – he doesn’t miss the look Sai gives Shikamaru – and glances at her kunai, “Your lightning technique is quick work.”

“It’s the neutralization that’s the most difficult part,” she offers warily.

“That comes with time,” he nods.

“What the _hell_ is happening?” Ino whispers to Shikamaru in an angry hush.

Sai stares at Sasuke for a minute and then looks at Sakura, “How did you manage to figure out the hiraishin anyway?”

“I had been working on it a few years ago, actually,” Sakura raises her arms above her head and stretches, “I had to drop it once we went to war, but I picked it up again,” she glances over at Minato who’s hip brushes hers, “I guess I just I needed a bit more practice.”

Minato almost chuckles.

Somewhere between a half-eaten bowl of ramen, a long shower, and three-quarters of a film – _Natsume’s Workshop_ the one Minato had been _dying_ to see – Sakura arrives back in the Hokage’s Towers.

The conference room to be precise.

With damp hair, a loose-fitting t-shirt, and her joggers – Sakura is the epitome of calm – that and she refused to stay in Kakashi’s apartment after that _night._ Her hormones needed a good scolding and Minato’s confusion – because she effectively shot up her wall when her thoughts took a turn towards the gritty and provocative side of her brain – towards her seemed almost overwhelming.

The fact is, even though Minato cannot hear Sakura’s thoughts when she’s effectively blocked them – she doesn’t block them at least ninety percent of the time – he can still _feel_ them.

It’s mortifying to say at least, humiliating when she notices that Minato can actually feel her desire and rush of _longing_ towards her old sensei when her brain decides to let that musing float around like a silk ribbon on a spindle.

She doesn’t want to head down that conversation at _all._

“Full debrief,” Shikamaru announces and nods at Naruto to record, “Hokage-sama if you please.”

Sakura looks over at Kakashi expectantly and Minato stands behind her, a silent pillar of strength.

Kakashi sighs so deeply, his muscles deflate and shoulders droop until they nearly sit on top of his ribs, “As you know the Mizukage has been killed.”

Sakura flinches and Minato’s hand squeezes her shoulder.

“Before we go any further,” Shikamaru decides to interject from across the room, “Sakura, can you confirm a mental link?”

“A mental link?” she furrows her brows at the question.

“Between Chojuro-san and Mei-sama?”

“Yes,” Sakura answers immediately and thinks back, “They have a mental link, sort of like the one we developed in the war. Chojuro-san was allowed to relay Mei-sama’s messages due to this link.”

The Nara nods in comprehension.

 _They need to confirm their intelligence,_ Minato says absently and scrutinizes the documents on the table, _We have to consider what this means in terms of war and tension with other countries._

Minato is telling her something—something that she can’t seem to put together.

Then it _clicks._

 _They can’t suspect me, can they?_ Sakura thinks with shock, _They can’t think that I’m responsible for the Mizukage’s death?_

“Chojuro-san has been renamed the new Mizukage,” Kakashi states suddenly, “Amid the disaster prior to the new kageship, he contacted Konoha and said that Mei had contacted him using their mental link. She called him in for reinforcement. A siege.”

If Naruto notices the drop in honorific, he doesn’t say anything, merely tightens his grip on his brush, and continues to dictate.

“That makes sense,” Sakura agrees with that and frowns, “I didn’t know where Chojuro-san had gone when I was captured,” then she grimaces, “I didn’t bother to find out even when I came back.”

 _It’s not your fault, Sakura,_ Minato’s thumbs dig into the back of her neck, pressing against her vertebrae and muscle there.

“When we heard that you were captured,” Shikamaru starts off with a tight jaw, “There were a lot of theories, gossip, rumors, implications by the Elders – most of which was utter bullshit – and we’ve had tensions waver throughout our embassies. The world wasn’t ready for another war.”

“But we were prepared to go to war, for you, Sakura,” Kakashi finishes his advisor’s line of thought with a heavy stare.

Sakura swallows and Minato’s hand tightens on her.

“It wouldn’t have been the smartest response, but you are a former Hokage’s apprentice, the current Hokage’s student, the best medical ninja in the world, a highly-decorated diplomat, an ambassador, my deputy, ” The Hokage continues with a wave of his hand, “The list is endless; we could not let this go unanswered if it came to that.”

“This was a message,” green eyes narrow.

“Perhaps,” Shikamaru muses, and his fingers interlock with each other, “I’m still receiving intelligence reports.”

 _It was a message, but what was the significance?_ Minato’s anger crackles through her like thunder and her fingers vibrate against her lap.

“Chojuro was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He received that message using his mental link.” Kakashi goes on, “To defend his Mizukage during what appeared to be a brutal battle or to defend an ally from a terrorist organization on home soil?”

“He chose his Kage,” Sakura summarizes and then shakes her head, “I can’t fault him for that.”

Shikamaru nods, “The mainland comes before any ally.”

“What happened to those who abandon their friends are even worse than trash?” Naruto quotes from the corner with a tense jaw.

Sakura can’t look at him.

_That’s where things get messy._

This is what Kakashi had tried to prepare them for, warned him about. When the time comes, does he choose a friend who bleeds, sweats, and fights with him on the field, or does he choose his country? Does he choose the mass population or one life? Civilians? Can he put a price on a life?

Shikamaru clears his throat, he chooses not to engage in an argument, just pure logic, and rationality, but even Sakura can see the way those earth-colored orbs are struggling to coil in his blatant exasperation.

“It was a bloodbath according to our hunter-nin reports,” Kakashi says quietly, “They’re calling it the Second Bloody Mist.”

“The Bloody Mist only came to be _because_ of the caste system,” Sakura argues back, “Calling it the _Second_ one makes no sense.”

“It _started_ with the caste system,” Shikamaru corrects her and explains, “But it ended with the Fourth Mizukage, who was manipulated and forced into corruption, hence the multiple defections of Mist nin,” he hands her a report from a week ago, “From the body count and counterintelligence, we confirmed that the entire ministry and councilmen were slaughtered. There were very few survivors, one of which, was Chojuro-san.”

Sakura’s eyebrows rose at the number of casualties and she hisses between clenched teeth.

 _This is making absolutely no sense,_ Minato points out with irritation, _Why would—_

She turns to look at him, _Minato?_

His blue eyes blaze with fire, _Did anyone claim responsibility?_

Sakura opens her mouth to voice his question—

“The _Mizuchi_ ,” Shikamaru answers her unasked question, “They are claiming responsibility.”

“I was an afterthought,” Sakura’s neurons are firing at such a rapid pace, her left eyelid begins to throb in thought, “They needed to split us up because they knew that if I went with Chojuro there wouldn’t be _a_ causality and the Mizukage might still be _alive_. The poison was supposed to be the easy way out, but they wanted to scare the civilians.”

“For what purpose?” Shikamaru demands.

“Power? Fear? Fear controls people, what they know or understand will keep them at bay than force them to ask questions,” she throws those ideas out and she scatters the puzzle pieces on the table.

 _That was the message,_ Minato points out.

“Chojuro contacted us after the death of his predecessor to tell us that he had to abandon you to fight the Mizuchi because he had to hold the fort down at the capital,” Kakashi states bluntly, “We couldn’t confirm if this was true or not, simply because we can’t _trust_ the fact that you were _lost_ in that country; we sent ANBU headhunters. They came up with nothing.”

“Nori has a woodland area, it’s made from a chakra-suppressing metal,” Sakura tells him, “You wouldn’t have been able to find me even if you tried; that metal has been prohibited since the Second War.”

“A war crime,” Kakashi reviews.

“Yes,”

“We weren’t sure what was going on Kiri, if it was a coup or something as far-fetched as a rebellion,” Shikamaru adds in.

Sakura rubs her face and tries to summarize, “Okay. Let me see. Mei-sama and nearly all the political figures in the Mist were slaughtered by a terrorist organization. I was left to fend for myself because Chojuro had to teleport to his kage – don’t look at me like that Naruto; all nins jurisdiction is to their kage – and defend against his oppressor. The poison was a tool. It was used to inspire fear into the civilians and nin to control their movements. I was caught in the crossfire, but—” she inhales slowly and Minato’s fingers never leave her person, “But they wanted information.”

Kakashi’s eyes sharpen, “What kind of information?”

“I don’t know,” she leans into the back of her chair and sighs, “I kept fading in and out of consciousness.

Naruto exhales.

 _Did the specify what information, they wanted?_ Sakura asks Minato.

Minato slides his hands down her neck to cup her cheeks, pulling her until the back of her head rests against his navel. She can feel his anger, simmering deep in her blood, but she tightens her grip on his emotions with a steel fist.

 _No,_ he answers tersely, _They never stuck around long enough to speak._

“It might be about the poison,” Shikamaru offers and glances at the paperwork, “It might be information in general.”

“Konoha has no secrets,” Naruto objects.

“That you know of, _we_ know of,” Kakashi mollifies him with a look, “They’re playing a game.”

“Mist got caught,” Sakura’s eyes sharpen and she grabs another set of reports, “The Mizuchi managed to bring a nation almost to its knees just by relocating the country’s forces. Especially with the fact that Mist’s military was _leveled_ by the war. There’s only a handful of shinobi left to defend the country.”

“You think they were targeted,” Shikamaru picks up on her line of thinking immediately, “That this was just the beginning.”

“I’m _thinking_ that they were the easiest choice,” she stresses and glances at the list of injuries, “If they wanted to overrun a country, Mist would be the top choice. Mist is _weak,_ not by infrastructure, resources, or by lack of agriculture, but because the nin they produce kept _defecting._ This proves the country’s instability and now they have included Konoha in their list.”

“They wanted to cause a rift,” Kakashi sees it now.

“The strongest militaristic country at ends with the weakest country in the world?” Sakura scoffs and jots a number down on the sheet of paper, “They wouldn’t think twice if they can get someone to do their dirty work for them. It’s too bad for them that we have more allies than bad blood.”

Naruto bites the inside of his cheek and his eyes widen at Sakura’s pitch. He’s never seen her so— _intense_ before. There’s a bit of schadenfreude that dances in her eyes, the power that she exudes in her gaze alone nearly roots him to the ground and the silver in her tongue is just as brutal as her _fists._

“They wanted to exploit that,” Sakura says, “Konoha would’ve been looked at as an autocrat rather than a peace-seeking village. It doesn’t matter how much peace-talks we have or festivals that should invoke better relations; another war would just put all leaders on edge. It’s a good thing you waited or we would’ve done what the Mizuchi wanted in the first place, a total invasion.”

“It’s a good thing you came home, Sakura,” Kakashi acknowledges abruptly and his eyes flash with the sharingan for a brief second, “Or I wouldn’t know _what_ to do.”

Shikamaru nods and clarifies the thought he built in his head, “You were the message. Chojuro had put a global message a week after Mei-sama’s death. They had cleared your name and acknowledged you, Sakura, as their _savior,_ all the while denouncing the organization. They want us to acknowledge the _Mizuchi_ as a threat.”

 _We don’t have a choice,_ Minato retorts quietly, his thumb strokes her pulse point at the side of her neck, _They’ve made an enemy with Konoha just by_ _touching_ _you. We need to find a way to solidify our union despite this mess, this will force the Mizuchi to rethink their plans._

 _You mean it will buy us some time,_ Sakura translates.

 _That, and give the world a better outlook on Konoha. If we’re the ones pushing for peace, the rest will have to follow,_ he breathes into her ear.

“We need to figure out a way to tighten relations without giving the Mizuchi what they need; recognition,” Sakura offers and straightens her shoulders, “If we recognize them, we give them power and that’s just not possible.”

—

“So why do the eggs need to be at room temperature?” Sakura separates the yolk from the white and places them in separate containers.

“Timing,” Minato shrugs and sits at the countertop with his hands underneath his chin, “Kaa-chan used to say that if the egg is warmer, it takes less time to cook and it just mixes faster.”

“I understand the timing part because logically it makes sense,” she agrees with that, “But does it really matter how long the incorporation takes?”

He rolls ocean eyes, “Sakura, just follow my instructions.”

“Yes, yes, Hokage-sama,” Sakura scoffs and grabs her whisk.

“Now you have to whip the egg whites until they start looking like foam,” Minato instructs and points the bowl of sugar, “Once that happens, slowly beat in the sugar until you get stiff peaks—that means the tip of the whip doesn’t move.”

“ _The tip of the whip_ ,” she repeats slowly with a half-amused smile, “Interesting set of words.”

He huffs but his eyes twinkle with humor, “Just whip the eggs,”

When Sakura whips, she _whips,_ and the bowl rattles even though she holds the rim of the glass bowl with strong fingers—Minato can practically hear the poor glass shrieking in distress.

He grabs the bowl which causes all action to cease abruptly; she looks up.

“What?”

“Sakura,” Minato says slowly and grasps her wrist, “You’re going to break the bowl.”

“I’m _whisking,_ ”

“No,” he denies with exasperation, “You’re _destroying_.”

Sakura glares at him.

Minato walks around the counter, his fingers slide up towards her wrist and he adjusts her grip until she’s holding the whisk like a brush. The front of his clavicle brushes the back of her neck and leans down until his hair brushes her cheek, “The key is to whisk the eggs with a strong, but brisk hand. If you whisk to hard you end up making a mess.”

“Speaking from past experience?” she quips back and exhales slowly when he instructs her to whole the bowl and whisks the bowl with her.

“My kaa-chan wasn’t very happy with my lack of skills,” he huffs a chuckle next to her ear, and his chest makes an imprint on her back. His chin digs into her nape, and when the eggs turn to a glossy white, he steps back.

Sakura clears her throat and adds the sugar in, gradually.

“Does that trick usually work?”

Minato takes a seat on the counter, if he were a real person, he’s sure his bottom would be covered in flour and cocks his head, “What trick?”

She licks her lips and focuses on pouring the honey mixture into the bowl, “You know, that thing that guys do. You walk behind a girl, help her with whatever she’s struggling with, and you know,” she’s stumbling over her words and she has no idea _why,_ “Um, do that back thing with the chest,” and then she slams her whisk down in frustration. Green eyes pin him to the counter and blurts out, “ _Look_ , it’s a flirting technique.”

Unperturbed, he raises a blonde eyebrow, “Is that what you call flirting?”

Sakura’s brain stutters, “Uh, yes?”

Minato furrows his brows and looks momentarily confused.

She hesitates, “Did you not…know?”

“It’s a trust exercise, at least what I’ve been told, for male and female teammates when I was in ANBU,” he explains and motions for her to mix in the flour, “ANBU didn’t have a lot of females in the force, and the women who were in the ranks, were sorely outnumbered by the men. They created different trust exercises to implement comradery and well, _trust._ Would you let someone at your back, your neck, unprotected and vulnerable?”

Sakura takes that in for a moment, for some reason, it _does_ make sense, but the aspects of it, rather than it be logical, it seems entirely male-created. She can’t dissect the direction without proper context, moreover, she has no experience to even think about the communication channels and what that would mean for ANBU.

Shinobi are different than civilians, after all.

They each have a set of their own morals. 

“Well, it’s considered a flirting technique, now, at least,” Sakura shakes off that train of thought before her brain delves into something darker, more complicated and less nice, “A bad one too. It’s a cliché.”

Minato snorts, “Sakura if you think that’s _flirting_ , then—”

“—then?” she asks abruptly and looks up at him after throwing in the remains of her flour. Emerald orbs catch ocean ones, she holds them there and quirks her eyebrow upwards; a silent dare.

He takes the bait – she _wants_ him to, he knows this – and tugs her to him by the edge of her apron. Her feet slide across the white tile of her kitchen, her fingers go through his thighs and rest on the countertop while both his hands run through her hair in carnation knots.

Minato tilts her head upwards, so her cheek slides against his and pulls her closer into the open gap in between his legs. He continues in a deeper, but no less casual tone, “—then, what would you do if someone was _really_ interested in you? I assure you it won’t be as…juvenile, as you implied.”

“I have had _other_ people interested in me,” Sakura attempts to brazen this entire thing out with a different direction, but Minato doesn’t let her get away so easily.

“You have, but not in the way you deserve,” he interrupts her, the skies of his eyes narrows into ocean-blue, “Not in the way you should have received.”

“Like…courting?”

“In a way,” Minato concedes, he tugs a strand of carnation-colored hair behind her ear, “I’m slightly disappointed that no one has ever bothered to romance you.”

Sakura snorts, “Romance is overrated.”

“Pessimist,”

“Optimist,”

“My point is,” he tries again, “What would you really do if someone was flirting with you?”

“I would have to be interested in the person to reciprocate, don’t you think?” she frowns.

“Would you recognize it?”

“Probably,” Sakura shrugs and leans back, “But they would have to be pretty subtle about these things.”

“ _Subtle_ ,”

“Don’t give me that look,” she rolls forest-green eyes, “I’m not _that_ oblivious.”

“You just thought I was flirting with you because I was helping you, which shows that the standards of dating have really diminished since my reign,” Minato scoffs, pulls her closer, and drops his forehead to hers, “Because if I was really flirting with you, you wouldn’t just know it—you would _feel_ it.”


	13. comet

“That’s actually,” Sakura pauses to raise her brows, “Not a bad idea.”

“I do have good ideas on occasion,” Kakashi says cheerfully and then leans back in his chair, “But this was actually Naruto’s idea.”

Green eyes widen at that, she spins in her chair to look at her blonde teammate holed up in the corner of Kakashi’s office, with a ton of manuscripts stacked up in front of him. She quirks a brow, “ _Really?_ ”

Naruto pouts, “I thought it was a good idea.”

“It is,” Shikamaru snorts and reshuffles his papers on his desk, “To prove unity, a visit to Water Country while attending Mei-sama’s funeral will show that the Leaf country pays respects to a Kage that fought in the world war. It will be seen as both patriotic and compassionate.”

“Are any other Kages attending the funeral?” Sakura asks hesitantly.

“No,” Kakashi shakes his head, “We’re the only country; tensions are very high, especially with the recent water poisoning. It’s going to make the other countries look bad because we’re attending, and they aren’t, but we have a direct link towards this tragedy.”

“And they still think Konoha did it,” Naruto interjects suddenly.

Shikamaru looks over at the pink-haired medic.

“They still think _I_ did it,” Sakura answers with a heavy sigh, she rests her head at the back of her chair and looks up at the ceiling, “And they don’t want to be in a room with the medic who both somehow managed to solve a poisoning and allegedly murdered the Mizukage.”

“Kurotsuchi is feeding that information to her nin, that in turn is spreading it towards the other countries,” Kakashi points out and rubs the bridge of his nose, “Even if they are just rumors, that doesn’t mean they have a lick of truth to them.”

“But people will believe anything as long as they fear,” she inhales sharply and blinks when Minato materializes in front of her—at the back of her chair. He looks down at her with ocean eyes and drops a finger to the corner of her mouth, strong digits cradle her jaw and he strokes the bone there, gently.

Her lips curve upwards at that.

“Even so,” Shikamaru tries to point the conversation in a different direction, “It might be the best move, politically, to make.”

Sakura sits up and Minato takes a seat next to her, “It’s still risky.”

“Why?” Naruto asks.

“Security protocol,” Shikamaru answers for her and looks over their diagrams “Historically, it’s unprecedented for a Kage to attend a foreign Kage’s funeral. It just hasn’t been done before, there are exceptions for the Daimyos of course, but not for military leaders.”

“No time like the present,” Kakashi nods his head at that and then looks over at his reports, “We should keep the circle close.”

“How close?”

“Me,” Kakashi lists, “Five guards, plus Shikamaru, Sakura-chan, Naruto, Sai, and Sasuke,” he frowns behind his mask, “He needs to pay his penance.”

“By subjecting him to Wave militia?” Shikamaru exclaims in mild disbelief, “It’s because of _him,_ the Mizukage was killed and Sakura was captured or are we just going to _ignore_ that?”

“Shikamaru is right,” Naruto scowls and crosses his arms underneath his chest, “It’ll be like dangling a treat in front of Pakkun and not allowing him to even _smell_ it.”

Sakura’s eyebrows raise at Naruto’s unexpected hostility towards their Uchiha teammate. She finds it ironic that he’s suddenly against Sasuke’s actions, that he’s not willing to support him even though he broke nearly every rule in the book – both internationally and nationally – and still found the good in him.

“Kakashi-sensei is right,” Sakura tries to direct the conversation to a more rational viewpoint, “Putting Sasuke in the front lines will send a message to the world.”

“Which is?” Shikamaru raises a brow at that.

“That we aren’t waiting for fate or an intervention to fix this,” she explains and pours herself a cup of tea, “Sasuke will have to take responsibility even if it was his overconfidence and his pride that led him to this spot. He may not care what the entire world thinks about him, but he _does_ care about his family’s reputation, their honor, and what they would say about this entire ordeal.”

“And _we’re_ his family,” Naruto finishes for her, pastel blue eyes soften at that.

“There’s also the matter of appearances,” Sakura continues and fixes Shikamaru with a look, “What does it say to the world when Sasuke shows up with his damaged teammate? The teammate who was captured based on his intel and failure to complete his mission?”

“That you’re either stupid or you’ve forgiven him,” Shikamaru counters not satisfied with the outcome and the disadvantages outweigh the benefits, “Which isn’t a good conviction.”

“ _Or_ ,” she presses with thin lips, “Or it shows that Konoha isn’t afraid. That there are consequences to our actions and that we serve them, even if it is to our own people. Putting Sasuke and me together, in Mist, is nothing more than a political statement.”

“Or Naruto is right. Mist could take it as a challenge,” the Nara counters, “They see Sasuke as his enemy, the fact that he didn’t confirm his kills before coming back to the village shows negligence. They could take it as a challenge.”

“We have to make sure it doesn’t come to that. Sasuke is not a child, there are consequences to his actions. He has to pay for them,” Kakashi cuts the conversation there and makes a move to adjourn the meeting, “Pack your bags; we leave tomorrow at sunrise.”

Shikamaru shakes his head in displeasure.

—

“It’s risky,” Minato lays on her bed and watches her restock her medical pouch. He frowns when she grabs her ambassador slash, “I don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to like it,” Sakura replies and folds another pair of pants into a summoning scroll, “It’s a necessary evil.”

Minato grabs the scroll in an attempt to pause her movements, it works, she stops and looks at him. He pins her down with ocean eyes and declares, “You’re not ready to go back to that place.”

She narrows emerald orbs, “And who the _hell_ do you think you are to tell me that—”

“Sakura,” Minato tightens his grasp on her wrist and snaps, “Do _not_ talk to me like that,” he inhales sharply, “I _know_ you.”

And that’s the thing.

_He does._

Minato knows her inside and out. He knows the places where she goes to hide, the feelings she wants to bury and the thoughts she tries to ignore. He knows them _all._ He never pushes her, he wants her to come to him on her own and she’ll fight him back too. Sakura hates him in small pieces for it, but she _adores_ him for it too, because he will never force her nor will he put her in a position to choose.

If Minato can feel her growing feelings for him, he doesn’t acknowledge them, he’ll hold her hand and twist his fingers in her hair tighter. He’ll bring her closer, press his lips against her temple, underneath her ear, and her jawline.

Chaste almost-kisses.

They are an _almost_ , a preface to something—something that she _dare_ not think of, imagine.

“Ino was right,” Sakura tells him and pulls her hand back from his grasp. She focuses on her pack and adds a few vials of the antidote into the side pocket of her pack. “I can’t let my fear control me; I have to live with it.”

Minato doesn’t say anything, he just watches her.

“It’s fine,” she tries to assure him even though it’s more for herself, “Everything will be _fine_.”

“How do you _know_ everything will be fine?” he huffs with exasperation, blue orbs darkening into storms.

Sakura looks at him dead in the eye and says, “You’re with me.”

There’s a cavity in Minato’s throat that grows and then tightens.

“You’re _always_ with me,” she finishes and she can’t look at him after declaring that. She can’t bear to look at the blue of his eyes, because they would devastate her and her train of thought. Minato has always had that power over her, one that stops all rational thought and logic.

“Have you forgiven him?” Minato decides to change the subject due to the growing anxiety nestling in his stomach, from what, he can’t be sure. There are too many things to consider. She puts her pack on the ground and drops to her bed. She doesn’t look at him, not for a moment, but she flips over and tugs her pillow under her head.

“Who?”

“Sasuke,” Minato rests his palm underneath his cheek, elbow digging into the mattress as he gauges her reaction. His face is smooth, clean of any emotion, his eyes, on the other hand, they are too intense to look away from.

“I don’t know,” Sakura struggles to reply and squirms on her sheets. “I’m not angry with him, but I’m not happy with him either,” she brings her hand above her and covers half her vision with her fingers. She finishes quietly, “I think I’m just numb to it all.”

Minato pulls her underneath his chin, her fingers go through him, but she is solid against him. His fingers tangle in her hair and rest there. He can’t say anything to that, mostly because he doesn’t have a reply that’s suitable enough of an answer for her. He hates feeling powerless.

“The sad thing is, is that I’m used to this,” she chuckles bitterly into his throat and nails bite into cotton sheets, “I’m used to feeling disappointed. ”

Minato presses his lips at the crown of her head and hopes that it’s enough to distract her.

Sakura dozes on and off for a few hours, her head buried in the sheets with Minato curled up next to her. After a quick shower, a box of tempura – the one that Ino dropped off yesterday – and a strawberry smoothie; she grabs her pack and heads off to the front gates.

“I wish you didn’t have to go through this alone,” Minato says suddenly when they reach the gate and leans against the metal post. He fixes his gaze in front of him, he doesn’t want to look at his vessel, because he is weak to the jade of her eyes and he knows that he’ll end up stumbling on his own thought process just with one look.

“I’m not though,” Sakura doesn’t it like the self-depreciation that seeps into his tone, in hindsight, it’s ironic, but she chooses to beat that point back with a stick and force him to look at her. She walks in front of him and crosses her arms underneath her chest, “I don’t know why you keep thinking I’m _alone_ and that I—”

“—because I’m not _real,_ Sakura!” Minato _yells,_ ocean orbs morph into thunderstorms and he scowls ferociously, “All I can do is _stand_ and watch things happen. Even if something goes _wrong,_ I can’t do _anything_ about it! When the _Mizuchi_ captured you and took you into that room—I stood there and did _nothing._ I _watched_ them hurt you and there was _nothing_ I could do.”

She takes a step back and stares at him with wide sea-foam eyes.

Sakura didn’t realize – selfishly, she hates herself for it – how bad that Wave mission had affected Minato. The Yondaime had done a fantastic job of keeping his emotions in check, she doesn’t think she’s ever seen him lose his temper like that – she’s been so busy processing and thinking of herself that she didn’t even stop to consider how everyone else has been affected because of it – and she can’t tell if Minato realizes the depth of his emotions.

When Minato’s eyes lighten back to heaven-blue, Sakura sees him physically digest the weight of his words, and the _remorse_ that washes over him nearly sends her into a coughing fit. She thinks he needs it, he needed that outlet and maybe she _deserves_ it—his perspective because all she _does_ is think about herself and—

—Minato’s hands slide up the sides of cheeks, thumbs sliding underneath her jawbone, his pointer fingers curling against the back of her ears and he leans over her. “Enough—Sakura, that’s _enough_.”

“It isn’t, is it?” Sakura replies back quietly.

They’re not talking about the same thing, that much is evident when she presses a hand against his chest and it goes through him. She confesses a secret against his chin, “I hate that I can’t touch you.”

“I hate it too,” Minato’s smile is painful, he runs a thumb over her lower lip and presses his remaining fingers into her scalp. He presses his lips underneath her jawline, dragging his mouth against her pulse to bury his head into her neck. He drops his hands to wrap his arms around her waist and pulls her until she’s flat against his chest, “I wish I could do more for you.”

“Just being with me is enough,” Sakura lies against his neck, the false statement wraps around his fingers like spiderwebs, he wants to shake off the phantom threads, but he doesn’t refute her statement, even though it isn’t the truth.

“But it’s not, is it?” Minato circles back to the original argument and it’s the implications that are left unspoken, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to lose my temper like that.”

“I know,” Sakura sighs into his throat and he shivers even though he can’t feel the warm brush of air, “I should’ve been more considerate.”

“Sakura, you’re the most selfless person on this planet,” he rolls ocean orbs and presses his fingers into the knobs of her spine, “Don’t ever think otherwise.”

Sakura pulls back to look at him, she gives him a half-smile and takes a step back; Naruto arrives with Kakashi in her peripheral vision.

Her fingers itch to tangle with Minato’s and she wonders – as she gives a wave to Naruto – if he realizes how selfish she really is. 

Daylight burns as they sprint to the edge of Leaf’s border, a palanquin – which is standard for all Hokage that take trips outside of the capital – is definitely out of question. Kakashi had given Shikamaru that darkest glare he could muster before barking the order to double the speed to arrive at sunset rather than the following day.

Four hours before sunset, Kakashi comes to her when they reach the border of Leaf, while the rest of his guards are waiting for the boat to enter the country. He decides to ask, “Do you have a seal inside the village?”

Sakura nods, “A few actually. They aren’t located in the capital, however. Mei-sama was adamant about keeping me out of the main island.”

“She knew the end was near,” Kakashi sighs into his shoulders when he realizes what the late Mizukage had done, “Keeping you out of harm’s way was her goal.”

“You think she knew she was being targeted?” she frowns.

“It explains the lack of a description she gave you regarding the mission,” he replies and shoves his hands in his pockets, “Mist nin are more secretive than the Leaf if you can believe it. You mentioned that she was quite cryptic with her instructions and was hasty to leave Nori. She probably needed to keep you outside of the fire so she contain it, even if it was the cost of her own life.”

“She probably sent Chojuro-san with me because he was the next in line,” Sakura muses and leans against the tree, “She needed to keep her heir out of the line of fire.”

“She could’ve easily sent you Ao-san,” Kakashi reminds her, “But she chose Chojuro-san instead.”

“Do you think Ao-san is alive?” she asks suddenly.

The Hokage looks faintly startled at that and thinks back, “They’re still counting the bodies. I…would assume that he is. It’s nearly impossible to kill off that bastard.”

“Nearly,” Sakura repeats and Minato materializes next to her. He doesn’t say anything, but grabs her hand instead and tangles his fingers with hers.

“The Mizukage has been keeping secrets,” Kakashi states bluntly and he narrows his eyes at the sea, “It’s time we uncover them.”

 _That was ominous_ , Minato snorts lightly.

 _Kakashi-sensei has his moments,_ Sakura comments absently, _I blame the porn for his dramatics._

“By the way,” Kakashi starts again and looks down at her curiously, “How is Minato-sensei holding up with this—er, vessel situation?”

 _I’m fine, Kakashi_ , Minato rolls his eyes, _And it’s not a situation._

“He says he’s fine,” Sakura shrugs awkwardly and watches as the light from the nearby fisherman boat brightens as it gets closer to shore, “And that it’s not a _situation_.”

“Then what would does sensei call it?” Kakashi quirks a brow.

Minato stares at him for a moment, _Temporary._

She licks her lips and does it look at either at them when she says, “Temporary.”

“So what Pakkun saw last week was _temporary_ , huh?” the Hokage looks over at her sternly and crosses his arms underneath his chest; a mock to her current position.

Minato stiffens at that, sapphire eyes tapering into blue-grey storms and he pulls Sakura closer to him. Until her back is flat against his chest until his navel dips into the point of her hip and the crown of her head brushes the bottom of his chin.

Kakashi watches with confusion as Sakura seems to stumble – almost as if she’s attached to chakra strings – by an unknown force to the side of the tree. His sensei, most likely, but he’s frustrated that he can’t see him the way she sees him and he can’t see how the Yondaime is _interacting_ with Sakura.

“Minato has been with me for a very long time, Kakashi-sensei,” Sakura starts before Minato can start a rant of disrespect and something resembling the line of _fuck off you will never understand,_ or perhaps that’s wishful thinking.

Minato is too polite to say something that crass.

She glances at him for a moment and for a moment, his face is unreadable.

“He’s been with me for a very long time,” she repeats and straightens up, “It’s been almost a half year. I don’t hide anything from him and he doesn’t hide anything from me either. But I don’t appreciate anyone putting their two ryo in our _relationship_. I know you understand what I mean by that, sensei.”

Kakashi winces at the scalding insinuation, he supposes he could’ve worded it better, but the meaning is still there, buried underneath her irritation and his sheepishness. “I know what you mean, Sakura. But as _Hokage,_ I have to observe your…connection.”

_That was a low blow._

“Speak plainly then,” Sakura scowls and her leather gloves rub underneath the crack of her knuckles in irritation.

He levels her with a look, “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

She blinks rapidly at that and then stills, “What do you mean by that?”

“That was directed towards Minato-sensei, not you Sakura,” Kakashi clarifies, but she’s not too sure if he was telling the truth.

 _He’s lying,_ Minato’s chest brushes her back and frowns at his student, _Tell him that I do and that he shouldn’t point fingers when he hasn’t been honest with the woman he’s fixated with._

Sakura’s eyes widen at that and doesn’t turn to look at him when she very much wants to, _And what does that mean?_

 _It’s a hunch,_ his lips brush the edge of her ear.

“He says he does,” she watches him warily, gauging his reaction and finishes, “And that you shouldn’t point fingers when you haven’t been honest with the woman you’re _infatuated_ with.”

Kakashi remains expressionless and then he shrugs, “I’m not infatuated with anyone.”

 _Press on the open wound, Sakura,_ Minato whispers against her cheek.

“Are you sure?” Sakura raises a brow.

And he stiffens.

 _Check,_ Minato’s chuckles vibrates up her spine.

—

Kiri is in _ruins._

The entire town looks like it’s been ravaged by a typhoon. There are broken buildings, shattered windows, glass fractures littering the road and the earth itself is uneven from what looks like the remains of paper bombs. Sakura can still smell the _blood_ – rust and salt – from the killings.

“Sakura-hime!” a doctor, with his medical robe fluttering behind him stumbles towards her and he bows quickly in greeting, “Thank you for arriving so quickly, I am the Chief of Medicine; Hinamori Tsubasa. The Mizukage is waiting for your party at his office.”

Sakura’s face smoothens into one of diplomacy and understanding, “Thank you, Hinamori-san. However, I was told that a group of Jounin would be greeting us.”

Hinamori nods quickly and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “Yes, unfortunately, those Jounin were sent on an emergency mission last minute.”

“Emergency mission?” Shikamaru steps forward.

“We do not have many nin left, Nara-sama,” Hinamori reveals quietly.

Sasuke flinches.

Sakura nods instead, she ushers her hand forward, “Lead the way, Hinamori-san.”

Kakashi, who is covered by his Kage hat and robe, stays in the background, surrounded by his guards as they trudge forward to the Mizukage’s office or what’s left of its office. Sakura and Shikamaru are to do the talking until he reaches the Kage’s office; basic protocol.

“Kiri will forever be grateful for your assistance, Sakura-hime,” Hinamori praises her once again as they walk further and further into the town, “Your antidote saved so many lives, many of the civilians believe that you are an angel. As someone who fought the legendary Kaguya and breathed life back into so many people, the welders association has created a statue in your honor.”

Sakura stops abruptly at that and her jaw drops, “I’m sorry, did—did you say _statue?”_

“Yes,” Hinamori affirms with excitement and continues to walk, “It’s not quite finished yet, but hopefully, at the end of this month the stone should be in its polishing state,” he opens the door to the Mizu Towers and walks up the grand stairway, “I’m sure Mizukage-sama will give you more of a better explanation than I can.”

Then Hinamori announces the arrival of the Leaf party and opens the door.

Chojuro sits behind his Kage desk, rubbing the sides of his face in frustration before standing up abruptly. His eyes are locked on Sakura and Minato is behind her in response. It’s quiet for a moment before the Mizukage says, quietly, gently, “Sakura-san, you’re alive.”

“I’m not very easy to kill,” Sakura cracks a smile.

“And thank the Gods for that,” Kakashi interjects and then takes off his Hokage hat, “I’m starting to feel a little left out, Sakura-chan.”

Sakura rolls her eyes.

“Kakashi-sama,” Chojuro motions for them to sit on the couches in the sitting room part of his office.

“Fire Country would like to relay our condolences for your loss. We cannot imagine the horror that you and your village have been through,” Shikamaru begins and takes a seat on Sakura’s left. It’s a good start to any political or diplomatic meeting, Naruto who gave a quick wave to Chojuro, takes out his notes, and sits across the room. The Nara clears his throat “Not to jump to conclusions, but we would like an explanation for,” he pauses and turns to look at Sakura, “ _Everything._ ”

—

“Gods, I’m _exhausted,_ ” Sakura throws herself onto the bed and twists in the sheet. Her hair is slightly damp from her shower and her shirt rides up to her upper ribs on the comforter. She flips over and looks at Minato who’s watching her with an amused smile.

She thinks, she’s entirely too comfortable with this man.

Sakura knows this when he dips his pointer finger into her navel and trails up her ribs to tug her shirt back down. She sniffs, “You’re such a busybody.”

“You’re going to get a cold if you keep sleeping half-naked,” Minato gives her a half-glare and pulls it back down.

“Some of us don’t like pants, Minato,” she shoves a shirt back to her thighs, the quick flurry of movement exposes her collarbone and the tops of her breasts.

“You get cold easily,” he counters and then waves his hand to the pile of blankets at the foot of her bed, “Remember the ridiculous amount of blankets you requested?”

“Maybe I just like having blankets,” Sakura wrinkles her nose childishly at him and pulls her legs underneath the thinner sheets. “When it’s cold and you have a lot of blankets—that’s the best kind of sleep you can _get._ ”

“If I was real I would’ve warmed up the entire bed,” Minato scoffs and pulls the other blankets over her, “You wouldn’t need any blankets if you had me.”

Sakura turns her head to look at him.

He pauses briefly and blue latches onto green. Minato didn’t mean to say that aloud, because the stitch of truth that runs through that statement is honest enough to shake her bones. She doesn’t say anything when he curls the blanket around her, brushing the sides of her ribs and underneath her jaw.

“I wish I was real,” Minato whispers against her cheek, he shoves the remaining blankets over him and comes closer to her. His nose brushes hers and she burrows closer underneath his jaw.

Emerald eyes glitter like moonstones and she whispers right back, “I do too, but sometimes I forget.”

“Forget?”

“Forget that you aren’t real,” Sakura clarifies and her fingers brush over what would be his right pectoral muscle, “I remember when I try to touch you.”

“And you can’t,” he finishes for her.

“You can touch things now,” Sakura furrows her brows at that and tucks her hand underneath her cheek, “I don’t know when you started doing that; I can’t remember, but that confuses me sometimes because you’re _not_ supposed to do that? It’s like—”

“—like I’m starting to become corporal,” Minato follows her line of thought and plush, pink lips part in surprise.

Jade orbs lock onto rose petals pleats for a little too long and he watches her flicker her gaze back to his eyes. He is deliberate in the way he pulls his bottom lip into his mouth and releases it with a soft wave. He wants her to know that he’s always watching her, even when she thinks he’s not.

Sakura doesn’t shy away from him, not even when his thumb brushes over her cheek soothingly. His fingers are warm, not like the cold phantom traces she’s felt months ago, and she wants to _burrow_ herself into him. She wants to run her fingers through his hair and see if his hair really _is_ soft or maybe it’s rough, like straw.

 _It’s unfair_ , she knows.

It _always_ has been.

“We can’t keep coming back to this subject,” Sakura exhales against his throat and tightens her fingers in her sheets, “It’s not fair to any of us.”

“None of this has been fair,” he agrees and traces the lines down her back. The lines that her shirt doesn’t cover from him, “It’s frustrating, for me at least.”

“And it’s not for me?” she quirks a brow and he pulls her leg over his hip.

“You know what I mean,” Minato inhales and pulls her closer.

“Do I?”

His fingers trail up her leg to her thigh and smoothen up her hip. Minato presses his palm flat against her lower back until her mouth is muffled against the gap in between his shoulder and throat. Her hands raise up to steady herself, but they go through him instead and she’s flailing until he balances her out with the quick work of his fingers.

“I think so,” there’s a laugh in that sentence of his, but when she cranes her head upwards to glare at him, it disappears.

Sakura falls asleep to the feeling of Minato running his fingers through her hair.

Morning comes quickly, with fresh brushstrokes of coral and cobalt. It’s not raining for one, but there is a quiet type of mist that settles over the atmosphere, and it’s humid enough to keep Shikamaru’s hair down rather than up.

He scowls at her smile as she sips on her miso soup.

Sakura doesn’t have much of an appetite these days, even more so when she’s in Mist. There’s always something so somber about rain, the woodlands and the darkness that shrouds the evergreens at the edges of the shore. Her dreams are dark, with muted sounds and blissful silence. She doesn’t see anything, nor does she force herself to imagine something. Part of her thinks that it’s Minato’s that keeps her nightmares at bay, other times she wonders about the natural state of her mind.

Sakura keeps to herself in the corner of the breakfast room in the big lobby of their hotel, she sips on her tea and pokes at her salmon.

“The funeral is in a few hours,” Minato starts off and leans his head against the window.

“I know,” Sakura acknowledges and takes a piece of fish in her chopsticks “I’ve heard that each country has different rituals and traditions when it comes to putting a Kage to rest.”

“In the Leaf, we have a very standard and by the book funeral,” he explains, pours her another cup of tea – she wonders if anyone can see him lift an inanimate object – and continues, “The closed casket, roses, a speech and maybe a small service.”

“I vaguely remember the Third’s funeral,” she muses and takes a sip of her tea, “It went by…very fast.”

“There were a lot of things going on then, too,” Minato looks at her with soft powder blue eyes, “It’s understandable.”

“It’s still not an excuse,”

“It’s going to have to be,” he replies firmly, he uses his finger to traces a word that she can’t recognize onto her skin in small, slow strokes, repeatedly and offers, “In Suna, they don’t bury the body.”

“They don’t?” Sakura asks curiously.

“The Land of Wind is made mostly from sand,” Minato points out, “If they bury a body, the wind would just uncover it.”

“They cremate it then,” she makes a noise of interest.

“Yes,” he nods with approval, “At sunset. They believe that is when time ends—metaphorically of course. They burn the body and scatter the ashes in the wind.”

“Cremation is the easiest way to get rid of a body and it also kills whatever germs or viruses that can possibly eject itself from a body,” Sakura comments lightly and takes a bite of her rice, “But most people would prefer to bury—which I can’t seem to understand.”

“The burying or the ritual?”

“The reanimation jutsu,” she simplifies boldly, “The only reason it was able to happen was because the body was never destroyed. Once they have DNA from that person, they can revive that body; think of it like a magnet. Kabuto was able to reanimate so many people because he had their DNA, so when he revived the shinobi, the DNA automatically attached to the dead body and created a thread of, so to speak. That, with the chakra, the sacrifice and all those other details about the soul—” she licks her lips and finishes, “Can revive the dead, but if the body was destroyed completely or lost or was just unattainable, it would be impossible for someone to bring back that person to life.”

“Because there would be nothing to ground them to the earth,” Minato replies slowly.

“Exactly, cremating would just be so much simpler,” Sakura sighs and stirs in some sugar into her tea, “They have less of a chance of being revived and it would lower the chances in having a pandemic.”

“But I wasn’t cremated,” he says abruptly and straightens up.

She eyes him carefully, “Probably not.”

“But I’m still here?” Minato knows how he sounds, but he can’t seem to make sense of what he’s saying, “Would my soul still be grounded to this place?”

“I can’t answer that,” Sakura doesn’t know where he’s going with this conversation, but she can’t afford to think about it, because something treacherous, something like _hope_ bubbles up inside her and it nearly cracks at the seams of her composure, “Your chakra anchored you here, but we don’t know what that means and Shikamaru still hasn’t come across anything that is _remotely_ helpful.”

“Would Shikamaru be the only person who can figure,” Minato pauses to tangle his fingers with hers and holds her wrist next to his cheek and pins her with ocean eyes, “This out?”

She swallows the remainder of her tea to force herself to think about the question, even with the implications, she can’t allow herself to look too deep into that theory. She pokes at her rice, “He’s the only one that has clearance to dig up something that complex.”

“What does that mean?”

Sakura flickers jade orbs at him, “Clan privileges.”

“The Nara clan has their own set of archives,” his eyes sharpen at that.

“The Nara clan knows a lot more than they let on,” she implies with a sniff, but a small smile curls at the edges of her lips, “That’s why Shikamaru gets a first look at this. He’s a genius for good reason, moreover, he’s on _our_ side and the Elders aren’t too happy about that.”

“What do the Elders have to do about this?” Minato frowns.

“Sway,” Sakura replies and finishes her bowl of rice, “They have a lot of secrets, dark ones that they keep buried and they are _afraid_ of what Shikamaru will find. Shikamaru doesn’t come after anyone unless provoked, so when he started digging into your archives, they got nervous.”

“How nervous?”

“Nervous enough to feel threatened by his leadership,” she tells him and pushes her plate of salmon away, “They tried to remove him as head-advisor, but Kakashi wouldn’t have it. Kakashi-sensei said if they had something to hide, then they _should_ be nervous, he pointed out how suspicious that was—the Elders’ behavior. It quieted them for now, but Shikamaru is still digging.”

Minato leans back into his chair and looks up at the ceiling in frustration, “They don’t know when to stop, do they?”

Sakura snorts, “Not in the slightest.”

“What’s that smirk for, Sakura-chan?” Naruto’s voice breaks through her thoughts and she turns over to look at him. He leans against the table with a cup of coffee—?

“Since when do you drink coffee?” Sakura inquires dryly and crosses her arms underneath her chest, “Last time you had that, you nearly jumped into Kiri’s ocean because you couldn’t contain your excitement.”

“Coffee may taste like crap but it keeps me awake,” Naruto rubs his face tiredly and groans, “I was studying Kumo’s litigation last night. That chakra-suppressing metal thing you were talking about the other day, I went to do some research on it.”

She looks at him in quiet sort of approval, his vocabulary certainly has taken a rise since Kakashi had him doing paperwork, “What about it?”

Naruto takes a seat in front of her and Minato rematerializes next to her.

“People are still making it,” he frowns and looks down at his cup, “Somewhere in Lightning, there’s a shop where they make weapons that were banned from shinobi world.”

Sakura’s eyes sharpen at that, “Kumo, you say?”

“I asked Darui, he said he didn’t know anything about it,” Naruto goes on and takes a bite out of tofu from her soup in exasperation, “But there’s a money trail that I found and I can’t _ask_ for Kumo’s accounting records because that would be well, weird?”

She considers that, “You can try some back-channels.”

“Back-channels?” he thinks about it, “What are those?”

Sakura rolls her eyes, “Third-parties and other mediators, though, I like to call them _checkpoints_. Not really reliable when it comes to authenticity, but they do the work if you use them properly. You also don’t have clearance to use back-channels now that I think about it. I would suggest recommending Kakashi-sensei to send some nin to scout to the area or make up some diplomatic mission to gather some intel.”

“Isn’t that kind of illegal?” Naruto sips his coffee and then winces at the bitter aftertaste, “It’s sort of like spying.”

“It’s complicated,” she tries to explain, “But countries do these sorts of things all the time. It’s a diplomatic approach to the situation, still firm, but weak enough to not be considered significant if the nin we send aren’t skilled at what they do. It’s a low-risk gamble.”

He nods, “I’ll bring it up then,” and then glances at his cup of coffee with poorly restrained distaste, “Do you think they sell ramen here?”

Minato sighs.

—

“It might work,” Minato points out when she straightens out the black of her kimono dress and runs a brush through pink hair.

“I don’t know if Shī would tell me the truth though,” Sakura huffs at the thought of him deflecting her question and straps on her sandals.

“Don’t you have,” he struggles to come up with the words he wants to convey, “Have, some sort of… _relationship?”_

It’s not the word that bothers her, it’s the way he _said_ it.

“No,” Sakura stops him right in his tracks at that, “You know this too.”

“He’s always looking for you,” Minato tries to suppress his dislike for the Kumo nin from her, but his smugness at being reassured that the relationship she has with Shī is unimportant, sparks satisfaction at her fingertips. She doesn’t know _why_ it does though, but she can’t say that she doesn’t like it.

“And I’m always looking _at_ you, so what does it matter?” Sakura says these words absently – she knows very damn _well_ what she’s insinuating – sliding the strap behind her ankle, but she pretends that it’s nothing but a fleeting thought, even though he can feel the honesty like weights around those words.

It’s what they always say to each other, what she always says to him, and the fact that she somehow manages to change the connotations is nothing but clever. But it is the weight of that sentence that tells him something.

It _tells_ him, that he means _more_ to her than Shī.

Sakura stands up and looks over at him.

There’s a look in Minato that she has never seen before. It’s a cross between intense and something she can’t put her finger on. Even when Minato walks towards Sakura, with long strides, deliberate in his body language, and cups her face to look at him.

He ghosts his lips over hers and her breath hitches in the pit of her throat, it’s an _almost._

A nearly.

It breaks her heart about as much as it sets it on fire.

Minato drops his lips to the corner of her mouth and brings it to her temple. Sakura suffocates under the lack of air – she doesn’t dare move, to disrupt any movement means to stop _whatever_ it is he’s doing and that includes breathing – she drowns under his chaste ministrations and she wants, so desperately to sink her fingers into his scalp and press him closer.

But she _can’t._

An abrupt knock on the door diffuses the tension with two strikes of thunder.

Sakura blinks slowly and exhales against Minato’s jaw.

She pulls back, one foot at a time until there’s walking distance between the two of them.

“Sakura,” Shikamaru’s voice drawls in, a hint of concern catches at the end of the last syllable, “The service is starting in ten minutes, are you ready?”

“Yeah,” Sakura replies, but her voice cracks with longing and stings Minato’s veins the same way lightning does. She clears her throat, “Yeah.”

Sakura walks over to the door, her hand shakes as she slides the door open and swallows when she sees Shikamaru resting against the opposite wall with an unlit cigarette in between his fingers, “Ready?”

“Yeah,” he looks at her curiously and then waits for her to slide the door shut, “Kakashi-sensei thought that it would be a good idea to give you heads-up about the…event. Naruto and Sasuke are shadowing him as we speak, but I needed to talk to you about something.”

“About the funeral?”

Shikamaru nods, “Mostly, the burial is out sea.”

“Sea?” Sakura furrows her brows.

“Mei-sama’s body was found mutilated,” he whispers in her ear and Minato takes her hand in his when it starts to shake again, “To preserve her honor and dignity, they cremated her. They say that they used a spare body with a camouflage jutsu to hold the illusion of her body on the boat. Her ashes are in an urn, being held by the camouflaged body.”

“Wouldn’t the chakra burn out, from the jutsu?” she swallows.

“That’s a transformation jutsu,” Shikamaru corrects and they walk down the stairs slowly, “A camouflage jutsu doesn’t wear out. It’s a permanent S-rank jutsu.”

“Chojuro-sama would have to do that,” Sakura muses.

“They say that the body who is holding her is Ao-san,” he murmurs closer to her, “We weren’t able to confirm his body.”

She jerks back in shock and looks at him with wide eyes. Even Minato bristles beside her in surprise and she stammers, “A-Are you sure?”

“He’s the only one that would follow her, even in death,” Shikamaru shakes his head sadly, “And he’s the only one that would be allowed to be with her, alive or dead.”

“Is that intelligence verified?”

“No,” he pauses, “But it’s the most plausible explanation.”

“And Chojuro-sama wouldn’t tell us to save face and remain prideful of whatever is left in Mist,” Sakura summarizes and they leave the hotel with a few ANBU guards shadowing them. “It’s not the time for pride. Mist is on their last limb.”

“Nationalism can be a blessing and a curse,” Shikamaru shrugs and they walk towards their carriage, “I’d hate to be at his end of the stick.”

“Is the carriage necessary?” Sakura distracts herself by glaring at the very large palanquin.

“Protocol,” Kakashi’s voice is muffled from the inside, “Or as Shikamaru likes to remind me.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this type of fanfare,” she groans and tries to rearrange her kimono in order to step up into the carriage. Scowling furiously, even when her blonde ghost tries to lift up the silk from the bottom, she’s entirely fed up with her clothing, and hisses, “Fuck it.”

Sakura grabs a kunai from the inside of her sleeve and slices the length of her kimono dress until there’s a nice slit that reaches mid-thigh. Kakashi’s high, dramatic gasp is drowned out by Minato’s frustrated groan.

“Much better,” she’s pleased with her handiwork and takes a seat next to Shikamaru in the carriage.

“Feel liberated?” Kakashi asks with amusement and taps at her ankle with his toe.

“Very,” Sakura sighs into her shoulders and Minato glues his hand to her inner thigh—the exposed one.

 _Comfortable?_ Sakura snorts.

 _Are you?_ he shoots back and rubs his thumb in a small circle just where the kimono covers the rest of the skin.

 _Immensely,_ she almost laughs when his eyes brighten at that.

Minato squeezes her thigh comfortingly, and smirks, _So am I._

“Publicly indecency aside,” Shikamaru winces when Sakura slaps his shoulder and continues, “We do have to go over some foreign manners. For example, no looking at the body, even though it’s wrapped in flowers and ribbons.”

“How are we supposed to pay our respects to Mei-sama then?”

“You toss the flowers in, but keep your eyes on the water,” he explains, “It’s considered disrespectful to look at the dead while they are resting.”

“Anything else?” Sakura asks.

“The Hokage will have to give a speech – which I have right here – after the Mizukage speaks,” Shikamaru waves around a card and tucks back into his jacket. “Something to remind them about solidarity and unity; along with peace among our allies. Things like that. There might be some opposition, however, from protesters and anti-Konoha citizens, because of well, Sasuke.”

“Have there been any conflicts since we’ve arrived?” Kakashi inquires lazily.

“Fortunately, no,” Shikamaru sounds surprised himself, “But still, be prepared for the worst.”

“Wonderful,” he exhales dryly.

“Sakura will also stand next to you as you give the speech,” he smirks, “They like her better anyway.”

Minato hides a laugh.

—

Mei’s casket is wrapped in every type of silk they can list, with roses to lilies, the entire boat is decked with sweet-smelling flowers and expensive cloth. Kakashi’s speech, is short, sweet and to the point, when he throws his rose bouquet into the boat, there is very little applause, but when Sakura tosses the lilies in, the crowd roars.

Shikamaru hides a snicker at Kakashi’s very thinly veiled exasperation and pats his student on the shoulder.

It’s quieter when they send the body off, with roses and more petals. Chojuro cries a little and his nin stand behind him strongly, but surely. When the sunlight peeks behind the clouds, silver linings decorate the ripples of the water and a soft mist filters throughout the air; there is nothing but a small quiet stretch of comfort.

So when a senbon flies threw the air and decks Kakashi right in the throat; the panic that fills Sakura is inaudible, a sharp contrast to the pandemonium that explodes on the shore.


	14. saturn

“I need an angiogram, an x-ray, echo— _anything_ you can get your hands on,” Sakura runs her fingers through her hair and goes over Kakashi’s medical chart with the Chief of Medicine of Mist.

“I can get an x-ray, but an echo will take a while, we don’t have many machines and we need those for storage in case we receive an influx—” Hinamori’s voice is cut off when Sakura gives him a look that could freeze the _sun._

Emerald eyes crackle with lightning and she _hisses,_ “You have a foreign Kage who was nearly _assassinated_ on your home soil, if he doesn’t make it through you’re going to have a lot more things to worry about than _storage._ Mist is going to be pulled into _another_ war, and it won’t end with just an invasion; it will end with a complete _takeover_.”

Shikamaru arrives just in time to see Hinamori’s face pale to the color of a gurney and Sakura’s fury manifesting into chakra and emanates her person like a halo of mint. He grabs her elbow – mindful to keep himself in her line of vision – pulls her back, gently, and gives a quick nod to dismiss the Chief of Medicine.

“Sakura, you have to calm down,” Shikamaru hisses into her ear and pulls her into a nearby hallway, “Threatening the Chief of Medicine in _his_ hospital will put us in hot water with Mist! And we already antagonized them by bringing Sasuke with us!”

“How can you tell me to _calm down_ when Kakashi isn’t responding to the antidote?!” Sakura snarls in rage and yanks herself backward to get some space.

The Nara clan heir stiffens, “What do you mean he’s not _responding_ to the antidote?”

“ _Exactly_ what I mean,” she exhales roughly and looks over at his chart, “It’s the same fucking poison, I don’t _understand_ why it’s not working! I gave him two vials, and I can’t risk giving him more or it will tear into his muscular system.”

“Did you receive the analysis on the breakdown yet?” Shikamaru fires at her.

“No, but it’s all the same symptoms,” Sakura rubs the side of her face violently, “Any luck on the attacker?”

“I have Sasuke and Naruto running patrols right now,” he scratches the back of his head and looks over at the window from the nearby lobby, “ANBU is shadowing us, however, they’re beating each other up over their lack of awareness pretty bad.”

“They should,” she agrees darkly, “This should have never happened.”

Shikamaru hesitates, “I know we haven’t exactly talked about this, but you’re the deputy Hokage and we have to follow your orders if the Hokage is indisposed or unable to lead.”

Sakura stiffens to the point that her muscles lock up at the back of her neck, her fingers congeal in sharp, deliberate movements as the knuckles crack. She bends those digits, attempting to grip onto her arms in a defensive position and looks at him warily. “What are you saying, Shikamaru?”

“Worst-case scenario,” he warns her with some sympathy, “We’re going to have a new Hokage when we get back.”

The pink-haired medic’s knees weaken without her consent, she topples over. Shikamaru stumbles to grab her before hard bone can crack against the hard tile, but it’s Minato who wraps an arm around her waist and in between her chest.

The air feels like it’s coming into fast, it’s not whistling in her lungs, it spins and spins. It seeps into her blood, her head rolls and she can’t _breathe._ She’s on _fire,_ burning, and she breaks into a sweat. Their hands are on her, they touch her arms, her back, her legs and they’re _closing_ her in.

It’s _dark_ in this room, she whimpers because she needs the _light_ and—

 _Sakura,_ Minato is in her face, she can’t define the emotion etched in starlight orbs, but he holds her fingers and smoothens the fine hair at the back of her neck. He brings his lips to her cheek, anchoring her in feather-light whispers and breathes into her ear. _Sakura—look at me. Look at me._

She gasps sharply.

Sakura hears Shikamaru calls for a medic, his words are distorted and her ears are _ringing,_ “She’s having a panic attack.”

Minato brings his lips over her eyelids, pressing warmly over the delicate skin, something cool is pushed against her neck and it centers her, _That’s it._

“Easy Sakura, slow breaths,” the Nara soothes her and Minato tightens his grip on her.

 _That’s it Sakura,_ Minato breathes into her ear, his lips brush underneath her jaw and he holds her, _Look at me, Sakura._

“I’m always looking at you,” Sakura’s voice cracks, but her sight sharpens and with the blonde pressing against her stomach, she counts her breaths.

Shikamaru furrows his brows, “What?”

“What?” she blinks rapidly and the hospital lighting refocuses in front of her like two spotlights. Minato gives her a squeeze and helps her stand up; she notices the crowd in surrounding them and a fresh crackle of embarrassment washes over her.

 _Oh Gods,_ Sakura nearly turns her head into Minato’s chest, intent on burying her head there until the end of time.

 _It’s okay,_ Minato quiets her and presses a kiss to the side of her neck.

And she flushes even brighter at that.

“Um, Sakura-hime,” a nurse from her badge interrupts her mortification to hand her a chart, “The analysis came back.”

“Oh,” Sakura clears her throat and accepts the paperwork while Shikamaru does some damage control. She quickly flips through the lab reports and fixes on a certain compound, “Oh no.”

“What is it?” Shikamaru asks swiftly, once he’s cleared the nosy medical staff.

“It’s the same poison, but it’s stronger this time,” she clenches her teeth and reads off the next compound, “That’s the reason he wasn’t responding to the antidote. I’m going to have to do an extraction once the antidote thins out because oxygen exposure would do more harm than good, but it should buy me some time.”

“What do you need?”

“I need you to send this list to Tsunade-shishou, Mist medics aren’t advanced enough to find a cure, not to mention they’re lacking in herbs,” Sakura needs to clear her head and get to work, “If Tsunade-shishou can knock out some of the compounds, we’re that much closer to finding a cure.”

“Anything else?” Shikamaru nods.

“A bottle of shochu,” Sakura’s half-serious when she says that, but Shikamaru pulls out a small blue bottle from his pack and gives it to her. She shoots him an incredulous look.

“I was going to give it to Kakashi-sama to drink with Chojuro-sama as a bonding technique,” he frowns and shoves his hands in his pockets, “But that went to hell.”

“Right,” the medic nods slow and unscrews the cap, “If this was a coordinated attack, we need Chojuro-sama on guard, arbitrate with him and his nin. Reassure him that this wasn’t his country’s fault, but reaffirm that Konoha _will_ retaliate. The Mizuchi all but declared war on the Leaf Village.”

“I can get Sand to send in some reinforcements,”

“Until there has been an attempt on Chojuro-sama, we can’t drag in our allies even though Naruto would,” Sakura sighs heavily and rubs her face, “I’m going to take a nap or something.”

Shikamaru squeezes her hand and advises her gently, “Get some sleep, Sakura. I can’t imagine what must be going through your head right now. I’ll station a guard or two at your door.”

“Unnecessary—”

“Protocol,”

Sakura takes a swig of shochu and lets it burn down her throat, “ _Right._ ”

—

Sakura stares at the compound breakdown from the lab reports and goes over the new chemical bonds that have been added. She compares the report with her notes from the last time she was here and tries to fill in the missing pieces. The antidote in questions gives fewer answers than she would have liked. She sits in between the v of Minato’s legs, her head rests on his chest as she goes over the paperwork and his chin rests on her shoulder.

“Tell me,” Minato breaks the silence, his hands are warm on her stomach and he brings his cheek against hers, “How are you doing?”

“You can _feel_ how I’m doing,” Sakura’s eyes continue to scan through the documents and she flips a paper over.

“I want you to _tell_ me,” his fingers squeeze her hips and he makes it a point when his thumbs brush over the base of her spine.

“I’m on the verge of another mental breakdown,” she answers dryly, the anxiety is a ball of nerves in the pit of her stomach and she can only pretend that she’s fine because that’s the only way she will _remain_ fine. “We’ve had an assassination attack on our Hokage. Kakashi is still poisoned because I can’t seem to find an antidote that will _work._ The Mizuchi hasn’t claimed responsibility this time, we barely have any supplies or herbs to start the trial processing, and the more time I waste—Kakashi will deteriorate,” then she laughs without humor, “Oh, and let’s not forget that I am to be acting Hokage until Kakashi is lucid, hopefully, because I don’t know where this is going.”

Minato doesn’t respond to her rant, he merely presses his lips to her temple and watches her scribble something unreadable on the report, “When do you have to do the extraction?”

Sakura glances at the clock on her table, “An hour, at least.”

“Why can’t you do the extraction with the antidote in his body again?” he asks absently, calmly. She needs an anchor, something to ground her when the world decides to topple over, he needs to be there to keep her on the earth when she feels like she’s falling apart.

“Once the antidote hits the air, it acts as a poison, the chemicals oxidize and it becomes toxic,” she replies quietly and pauses mid-shift in the report, “I gave him two vials of the antidote hoping that it would do _something,_ but the poison is stronger this time. They’ve perfected it, I think.”

“It’s only been a couple of weeks,” Minato points out and frowns, “Is that possible? Poison making seems complicated.”

“It is,” Sakura agrees, “But if you’re an expert, it’s different. We’re dealing with someone high up in the food chain, they may even be more competent than Sasori. I’m not an expert in antidotes and poisons, but I’m not an amateur. It will just take me a lot longer to come up with a cure.”

“What’s the antidote doing to him right now, then?”

“It’s draining his chakra, which isn’t necessarily the worst thing that could happen,” she explains and sighs against his chest, “Instead of attacking his chakra system it merely rerouted the effects to drain his chakra, presently, as of now. Poisons can’t mutate, but they can get stronger. Kakashi-sensei’s immune system hasn’t been the best since he’s been overusing the sharingan, the results post-recovery are unpredictable.”

“But once you extract the poison, that should buy you enough time to look for an antidote,” Minato interjects.

“Yes, however, the damage will have been done,” Sakura sighs and drops the reports in her lap, “I could try using my Yin-seal, but that only works with superficial wounds, not internal. I’ve tried it with a person who has a terminal disease too; there are limits to that jutsu.”

“I knew coming here was a bad idea,” he groans into her throat, “But it was necessary, I know.”

“I can’t catch a break, can I?” she inquires tiredly and looks over at her window. The sun dips behind the clouds and the gray light washes over her room in rainwater. It’s almost sunset, almost seven hours since she had Kakashi admitted to the hospital and here Sakura was, sitting on her ass glaring at her lab reports.

“You can’t beat yourself over this,” Minato scolds her with narrowed ocean eyes – she doesn’t need to turn her head to know this – and continues, “You didn’t know this was going to happen—you couldn’t have _predicted_ that this was going to happen.”

“I know,” Sakura groans into her hands, “I know, I just _wish—_ ” she pauses abruptly and looks down at her pile of paper on the bed, “I wish…”

“Lie down,” he orders suddenly and presses a hand against her lower back to urge her upwards.

“What?” she’s thrown off-balance by the non-sequitur.

“Lie down,” Minato repeats and moves the reports to the foot of the bed, “On your stomach.”

Sakura moves, slowly, still confused by his directions, but she tosses herself onto the bed clumsily until her nose digs into the reports and her feet are swinging in the air. She feels him move on the bed, his weight dipping into the center of the bed before he moves to stand on the floor, then his fingers slide underneath the back of her kimono dress – because she hasn’t changed _yet_ – and slides off the dress until it rests just above her bottom.

“ _Minato_ ,” she hisses as mortification burns her face, grasps the front of her dress to prevent any accidental exposure, “What are you _doing_?”

“Hush,” Minato soothes her and swings his legs over the back of her hips. He presses his fingers into the muscles at the top of the shoulders and digs into the tissue there. She grasps onto the sheets as he slowly makes his way down her back.

“Why haven’t you done this sooner?” Sakura groans when he presses into a hard knot and her hair tangles into the sheets when she turns her head to the side.

“Everything has changed,” he answers vaguely, she can’t connect those dots when he starts to dig into the knots at the sides of her hips, and asks, “Start with the antidote, what are you missing?”

It’s a distraction, Sakura notes, but she goes along with it because he knows her better than she knows herself.

“Chemicals,” she reiterates and grabs her reports, “There are more complex, most of the variables are unknown elements. I sent a list out to Tsunade-shishou, with the new technology that we currently invested in, I should have a breakdown soon, hopefully.”

“Can you fill out the missing blanks?” Minato rubs deep circles just underneath her scars, he still hesitates on touching the raised flesh so roughly.

“I could try, but I don’t have the equipment here,” Sakura considers that and scribbles something else onto the reports, “Once the extraction is through, I would have a better picture of what I’m dealing with. Everything…is still up in the air.”

He hums deep in his throat, “Kakashi is still unconscious?”

“Yes,” she frowns, “I can’t give him morphine because he’s prone to addiction. Tsunade-shishou has first-hand experience with him and that, but I did give him an alternative painkiller. He shouldn’t be too uncomfortable.”

“Once the antidote thins out you can start the extraction process,” Minato comes back to that statement more than once, “You’ve done all the preventative care, plus the predictable care, in case, another case should rise and you’ve been keeping all the options and factors out in the open so nothing can surprise you. So you’ve done all you can, haven’t you?”

Sakura pauses at that and replies slowly, “I guess you can say that.”

“So all we can do is wait,” he affirms and presses into the base of her spine. He presses his lips to the top of her spine and clarifies, “You need to keep a level-head when dealing with a crisis like this one, nothing good will come from panicking. I know you’re trying and I know you’re doing the best that you can,” he smoothens his hands up her back, “But remember that I’m here to help you, in any way that I can.”

“I know,” she inhales when his fingers slide over her scars, “I just feel like I’m not doing _enough_.”

“The feeling of inadequacy never truly disappears, but it becomes more minor as time goes on I find,” Minato mulls over that and continues, “You can only surround yourself with people who see the good in that you do.”

“It’s kind of hard to find those people if you hadn’t noticed, Minato,” Sakura huffs a dry laugh and yelps when she feels his teeth tip at her shoulder bone, “Did you just _bite_ me?”

“I don’t know, did I?” he replies sarcastically and traces the bumps of her spine with his pointer finger, “Here I am, baring my _soul_ to you and you’re making fun of me.”

She swallows a giggle when she feels his pout against her neck and stretches her back, “I’m not making _fun_ of you, I merely am pointing out a fact.”

“You know you have a good support system, Sakura,” Minato presses his lips against her neck, “At least acknowledge it.”

Sakura doesn’t know how he does it, but she’s much, _much_ calmer from her almost panic attack and her hysteria. She thinks it’s the PTSD coupled with her stress that’s causing her to produce so many emotional outbursts and instability; it’s not healthy. The Yondaime keeps her grounded with his hands on her bare skin, pressing into the tense muscles there and mollifying her aches with quick work of his fingers.

A knock on the door causes her muscles to tense back up again, the blonde’s fingers are pressing harder there and they ease the strain as she melts back. There’s another knock, “Sakura-hime? The IV is at the ten percent mark.”

Sakura sighs into the bedsheets and instructs, “Okay, prep the OR.”

“Yes, Sakura-hime,”

She arches her back and pushes the blonde off of her. She rolls her hip upwards to stretch out the newly lax muscles and sits up on her knees. Minato slides back to the bed until the curve of sunset radiating from the window, the burnished red and tiger lily hues of sunlight washes over the pink of her skin, the scars harsher under the reddish tone and contrasts with the satin of her skin.

Minato couldn’t look away.

It’s atrocious as it is striking, brutal in its beauty and the flex of muscle. It’s steel under silk that causes the blood in his ears to sing.

Sakura slips her dress back on, oblivious to Minato’s rivets in emotions – he’s hidden them away he realizes – and ties the obi tighter around her waist. She grabs her reports, she can’t look at him or she would crumble beneath those eyes of his. She needs to be strong, if not for herself, then for her Hokage and her friends.

She can’t afford to be weak in times of peril.

When Sakura walks out of the OR in a daze, she throws her gloves in the disinfect pile and tugs her mask down. She struggles to breathe outside of the room, her hand pressing against the cold window of the lobby and she inhales sharply. Her hand makes its way to her chest, a sharp thump of her knuckles against her sternum and she trembles the way her head spins.

“Sit down,” Minato orders firmly, his fingers are tight against her shoulders and he pushes her back onto the bench. “Slow breaths, look at me Sakura. I’m right here.”

“This is _horrible_ ,” her voice cracks and she drops her head in between her knees to settle the violent upturn in nausea.

“I know,” he whispers and drops down to his knees to rest in between the v of her legs.

“I didn’t think there would be so much _damage,_ ” Sakura breathes quietly, almost as if she’s trying to tie the shuddering gasps that seem to be determined to claw out of her lung with every breath that she takes, shut. “Even with reinforcements, there is no coming back from this.”

Minato presses his lips to her wrist and says, “Deep breaths, we’re going to get through this. Together.”

“Sakura,” Shikamaru arrives in front of her, dark eyes look at her in concern and he takes a seat next to her. He hands her a cup of water, “Take this.”

“The extraction is complete,” Sakura sips on the cup slowly, she tells him after a moment, as her fingers untie her ponytail and leans her head against the backrest of the wall, “His chakra pathways are shot.”

Shikamaru blinks at that and crosses his arms, “What does that mean?”

“It means the damage has been done. Once we administer the antidote, his sharingan will be useless and his chakra system will be beyond crippled. His life as a shinobi as he knows it will be over,” her voice cracks and she wants to _cry,_ so bad that it burns the back of her throat.

Minato rests his head on her thigh, still kneeling in front of her and swipes a thumb over her cheek soothingly, “He’s not dead, Sakura. We still have time.”

“Can it be fixed?”

“No,” Sakura presses the back of her palms to her eyes and puts pressure on the sockets. She removes them from her face just as quickly, black bleeding into light as she refocuses her gaze on the ceiling, “It’s irreversible.”

Shikamaru sighs, but takes Sakura’s hand and gives it a squeeze and looks at her kindly, “I know you did your best, Sakura. You did well.”

She sniffles and looks at him with watery emerald orbs, “Did I?”

He groans and fishes for a handkerchief in his side-pocket, “Don’t look at me like that, woman. You know I’m an idiot when it comes to women crying.”

Sakura laughs wetly and she accepts his handkerchief.

“It was an impossible situation, there weren’t very many outcomes and I only could see this being handled a few ways. We are limited by the kei pieces put on this board,” Shikamaru explains and keeps his hand in hers when he derails her train of thought – Minato’s eyes focus on that – and he continues, “There is no queen in shogi, because the game was probably made by men, but the point is, always protect your most valuable piece.”

She frowns, “But Kakashi-sensei almost died, how did we protect the most valuable piece?”

“Your tears are very distracting,” he replies dryly and gives her hand a squeeze, “In Mist,” he emphasizes, “Kakashi-sensei is not the most valuable piece on the board, _you are_.”

Sakura’s mouth parts open, “Shikamaru—”

“You are the only one, perhaps in this world, who can tell the shinigami to fuck off,” Shikamaru scoffs, her strokes her pulse point at her wrist – it seems like her panic attack had scared the shit out of him – and goes on, “You are also the Deputy Hokage, but you are an essential and irreplaceable shinobi. Even if Kakashi-sensei kicks the bucket, everything wouldn’t go to hell if you were still alive. It’s troublesome, but shogi isn’t perfect and a Queen is the only person who can hold the entire kingdom together.”

“But shogi doesn’t _have_ a queen,” her eyes brighten because of his praise and recognition, but her mood is still somber.

Shikamaru gives her hand another squeeze and Minato wraps his arms around her hips, “It should.”

—

Sakura doesn’t go to sleep very easily, she’s been interrupted her very well avoided sleep by two people. One who was Shikamaru, who is both apologetic and sheepish when he hands her a binder of things to go over to the next day. The second was a team that was sent from Konoha – from Tsunade-sama carrying the vials of antidotes – and once she administered the doses to Kakashi, she went back to her room and dropped onto the bed.

Minato exhales at the rough drop and she curls up at his side.

Sakura sniffles, “I don’t know why I’m crying,”

Minato’s arm curls against her, he pulls her back into the plane of his chest. He’s warm and she can _feel_ him burning woodsmoke into her chest. The rapid thump of his heart, the few tears that ran down the curve of his neck, the warm puffs of air that brushes the corner of her ear and his hair that tickles the side of his cheek.

“You’re going to be fine,” Minato’s voice is rough, bordering on scratchy, but it holds and stands tall.

“How do you _know_ that?” Sakura gasps raggedly, desperately.

“Because I’m with you,” he says and holds her tighter, “I’ll always be with you even when you don’t want me to.”

“You’re a pest,” she laughs wetly.

Minato presses a kiss to her shoulder and she swallows thickly, “You’re so much stronger than you give yourself credit for. You don’t need me, but I want you to. We’ll get through this together, me and you. Like we always have.”

_You don’t need me, but I want you to._

Sakura doesn’t sleep then, but Minato does and she starts skimming over the binder. She blinks at the certain sets of information, apparently, Kakashi had been keeping more than just _information_ from his circle of advisors. Sasuke wasn’t arrested or punished solely because the Elders _objected,_ as the last Uchiha, he has certain privileges – she knew this of course but having it confirmed is another thing altogether – moreover, Kakashi used Sasuke’s guilt as a tool to dismantle the legs of the _Mizuchi._

There are records, reports from Sasuke addressing Kakashi and his findings.

Kakashi had kept Sasuke in the shadows, creating an intelligence network solely to remove the _Mizuchi_ from power, she can’t feel too upset with Sasuke because he’s been working nonstop to cut them out and ordering him to come to Mist was just a front for his secondary objectives.

Kakashi wants the _Mizuchi_ to know that Sasuke is in Mist.

It’s cunning, evil almost, by Kakashi’s standards.

Sakura would’ve never thought of using Sasuke in such a matter, but then again, she never thought much of Sasuke until the _Mizuchi_ entered the playing field.

She would have to keep an eye on this, for now.

The next morning, Sakura dresses quickly and sips her miso soup. She stares in the mirror of her bathroom, she debates on whether or not to put her hair up or leave it down to her back. It’s unbecoming of a shinobi to have long hair, but Ino had told her once, long ago, that if no one can _touch_ her hair, then it doesn’t matter whether or not she leaves her hair down.

“I like your hair down,” Minato remarks helpfully, he sits on the bathroom counter and watches her intently.

“I have a meeting with Chojuro and his advisors. I have to look like I know what I’m doing,” Sakura reminds him from the umpteenth time and runs her fingers through her hair, “When Tsunade-sama sent the team of medical chunin from the lab with the antidote last night, after I administered the vial to Kakashi-sensei, there was a side effect. Kakashi-sensei has to sleep off the poison. The antidote will keep him unconscious in order to speed up the neutralizing process, but I don’t know what his recovery time will be, so I have do his Kage duties.”

“It’s not much different from when he’s in office,” he snorts, but tugs a strand of pink hair behind her ears, “And your appearance will do what exactly?”

“Make it look like Konoha isn’t weak,”

“Sakura, you can smash boulders with your fingertips,” Minato states with incredulity, “You can bring someone to the brink of death and heal them to life just with the wave of your hand; what part of _weak_ does that sound like to you?”

Sakura gives him a look, “I’m also a _woman.”_

He frowns, “Surely men aren’t so ignorant.”

She gives him a _look._

“Chojuro-san has the utmost respect for you,” Minato tries again and pulls her hands until she stands in between his legs, “I can _guarantee_ that he would vouch for you, even when _blind._ ”

“It’s not him I’m worried about,” Sakura sighs and presses her hand on the counter, parallel to his thighs, “It’s the remainder of his council. Who knows how many Elders will be in the room? Mist _hates_ involving foreign powers in their sovereignty; they prefer isolation.”

“Look where isolation has got them,” he argues and crosses his arms underneath his chest, “Their Mizukage was butchered, the ministry and nearly all the political heads were murdered,” then he hisses with clenched teeth, “They also allowed a Leaf diplomat, who was one of the sole reasons why we won the war in the first place, to be captured and _tortured_ by their own country’s mercenaries.”

“We don’t _know_ if it was Kiri’s mercenaries,” Sakura corrects calmly and she straightens up to consider, “Though, it is _highly_ likely.”

“The Seven Swordsman of the Mist did come from Mist,” Minato offers with a crinkle of the nose, “Who’s to say that the _Mizuchi_ didn’t come from the same place? The water dragon does seem to hit some notes.”

“So did the _Akatsuki,_ and no one thought red clouds were a bad omen until we saw what they were capable of,” she counters and decides to leave her hair down, “We have no idea what we’re up against and my movements are limited due to the sensitivity of the nature. Kakashi-sensei gives the final decision, so I can only advise from here. Shikamaru is much more adept at foreign politics.”

“He’s more adept at _handling_ foreign leaders,” he rectifies that sentence and jumps down from the sink, “You know how to wield the knife and stick it in.”

Sakura rolls her eyes, “That doesn’t sound very _pleasant._ ”

Minato presses his lips underneath her jaw and grins against her cheek, “It’s not.”

It’s a power move, she knows this when she sees the salt twinkle in his ocean orbs, and knows that it’s her move to make.

—

 _Are you out of your mind?_ Sakura scowls furiously at the blonde occupying her seat, the rest of the political leaders takes a seat at the surrounding table.

Minato raises a brow, _Take a seat._

 _On your lap?_ she hisses at him internally, embarrassment and shyness spark like ember flames. They wrap around his throat in petals and he wants to chuckle at the tickle there, but Sakura looks pointedly at his chair, _We’re in front of the Mizukage!_

 _It’s not like he can see me,_ he snorts.

_That’s not the point!_

“Sakura-hime?” one of the Elders calls out to her with concern, “Is something wrong with your seat?”

“Ah, no,” Sakura almost stammers at the thought, she turns her head to glare at the seat, where Minato smiles up sweetly at her, she grumbles underneath her breath and grudgingly, takes a seat on his lap.

It’s a strange feeling. Sakura doesn’t sink into the chair, she doesn’t go through him, so to say, because he wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her flush against his chest. If anything, she looks taller, more powerful to the other leaders in the room, and maybe that’s the reason he purposefully forced her hand like this.

 _I don’t know why you’re so embarrassed,_ Minato breaks her thoughts as she shifts to a more comfortable position on his lap – for a moment he is uncharacteristically thankful that he’s dead or his control would be slipping at the seams by then – rests one hand on her thigh and the other arm wraps around her waist loosely, _I’ve seen you naked before._

 _This is completely different_ , Sakura snaps back, she leans into the chair but her back doesn’t hit the back of the chair, Minato’s chest props her up and his chin digs into her shoulder, _What is the point of this anyway?_

_Maybe I just wanted to hold you, is that reason enough?_

Sakura wasn’t ready for that answer.

“I assume Kakashi-sama is well?” Chojuro begins the meeting with that question and looks at her apologetically, “Our scouts have not picked up anything on our end.”

Shikamaru who sits at the edge of the table answers for her, “Naruto and Sasuke found a chakra trail, but it goes cold at the edge of Nori.”

Sakura flinches at the name.

Minato’s fingers dig into her thigh, she slides a leg over his thigh in response and leans into the table. Her back arches against the chair and the hard muscle that she sits on flexes in response to her shift in weight. She exhales slowly, roughly and as much as she wants to turn back to look at Minato, she doesn’t.

The blonde parts her thighs, so the other leg can sling over his lonely knee and solidify her sitting position. In the end, Sakura ends up straddling his laps, with her fingers crossed on the table and she inhales, “We believe the neighboring islands are hiding things.”

An Elder – Mira-san from her packet – narrows her eyes at her, “What things?”

“When I was captured,” Sakura says this without flinching because Minato’s fingers rub small circles on her lower back to distract her from the memory, the sting of the whip and she continues, “They took me to the woodlands in Nori. I didn’t know Kiri had woodlands. With your permission, Chojuro-sama, I would like to send some nin to scout the area.”

 _On foreign soil you must remember to be courteous,_ Minato tells her, _It’s only polite to give them a fair warning, however, it’s not a request._

 _It’s their land,_ Sakura reminds him.

 _With Kakashi as the precedence, that removes quite a bit of formality,_ he retorts and slides his fingers to rest at the edge of her hip, _You have a bit of wiggle room to strong-arm them._

 _I need to keep the peace,_ she almost shakes her head, _But I have to be firm too._

“Granted,” Chojuro speaks before the Elders can put their ryo in and he sighs into his hands, “I cannot begin to thank you for your work, Sakura-sama. From fixing our country’s worst water crisis in history and healing those who were infected, coupled by your leadership in tending to the chaos from the assassination attempt on your Kage—I am simply at a loss for words.”

Sakura leans back into Minato’s chest wanting to disappear from the looks the rest of the councilmen gives her, she doesn’t shy away, but she doesn’t look at them directly either. He presses a kiss to her shoulder and she says, “I did what I had to do, Mizukage-sama.”

Chojuro starts at the title, but it’s a reminder as to what brought them these problems in the first place. He nods, “And Kakashi-sama?”

“I’m afraid until he wakes up, I cannot give you any more information,” Sakura brushes the pointed question and looks over at the room, “Our main focus is to test keep the waters in Kiri clean. We would like to set up a joint poison and antidote program, I would like to include Suna in this as well, more people involved would minimize any future casualties and keep the people safe.”

 _I thought you didn’t want to include Suna in this,_ Minato whispers into her ear.

Sakura hides a shiver with a tilt of her head, _I don’t, but their poison program is much more advanced than ours. Despite their lack of herbs, their greenhouses are top-notch, they have an abundance of rare herbs that we don’t have. I’m sure Gaara can spare some specialists. Besides this is a poison and antidote program, not patrols._

 _Tread carefully,_ Minato warns her and tightens his arms around her, _If there is another attempt, Suna will want retribution._

_They won’t be the only ones._

“Rejected,” Mira scoffs and slams her hands on her table, “Mist does _not_ want overseas aid residing within our village! It goes against our foreign policies and it most certainly—”

“Granted,” Chojuro puts a pin in her squawks and he narrows her eyes at the Elders, “We can’t afford to be picky with who we put in the village. We have allies and we need to make use of them. Our military has taken a hit, one that caused massive causalities and we’re losing nin by the _day._ Sakura-sama has been kidnapped, tortured and put through _hell_ just to help our country, I’m sure you can find some compassion and _empathy_ in that body of yours, Mira-sama.”

 _Holy shit,_ Sakura swears violently and sags against Minato’s chest.

Minato’s fingers thrum against her hips, _You found yourself an ally, Sakura._

_He’s always been an ally, Minato._

_Not that type of ally,_ he alludes.

Shikamaru hides a grin, “Joint-program is a go. We need to address the _Mizuchi_ issue, unfortunately, that falls outside of Sakura’s ring of power. Kakashi-sama will have to take it up with you, that falls under the terrorism and deployment of troops section of the International Fire Code.”

“What can Sakura-sama do then?” Another councilman asks sarcastically.

Sakura doesn’t know his name, but she can threaten him, “I can pull out all of our shinobi, drop all of our agreements and allow you to waddle on your one leg until your economy falls flat on its face. You’d be susceptible to another attack and this time it will end in conquest rather than a war,” she smiles then, “I am not the Hokage, so I do not have the power to carry out some actions. My Hokage is resting, not indisposed, therefore, my power is limited. But I’m sure you can tell by the way I ripped your hospital inside out and increased your medics productivity by an overall one hundred twenty percent that I can do some things, yes?”

 _Reel it in now,_ Minato instructs against her cheek, _You want to dig Konoha into the ground, like a pillar and let them know that you won’t be pushed around._

 _What? Is this a hazing?_ she inquires sarcastically.

_Yes, actually._

Sakura did not expect that answer either, startled, she stiffens and Minato soothes her, _You’re doing fine. Just a little more and you can level the playing field._

“Are you threatening Kiri, Sakura-sama?” the councilman asks softly.

 _Insinuate, but give them enough smoke to cover them,_ he murmurs and looks over at the Nara Clan head, _Shikamaru has his eyes on them._

 _Shikamaru can’t do anything once I open my mouth,_ she points a matter-of-factly.

“Your economy is on the brink of a total collapse,” Sakura states bluntly, “Help us help you. The _Mizuchi_ has not only assassinated Mei-sama, but they attempted to assassinate our Kage; can you really not see the position your country is in?”

Shikamaru clears his throat, “I think it’s time for a recess.”

Minato groans, _That is not what I meant._

 _I can’t do this pussyfooting type of talk, quite frankly, it pisses me off,_ Sakura bites out, _There is a reason I’m not in politics._

 _You’re a great politician Sakura,_ he defends, _You’re an even better diplomat; that’s what you have to be. Be a diplomat._

Sakura removes herself from his lap, walks over to the balcony outside the tower – it’s unprotected she realizes with some disdain – and groans into her hands, “I can’t be diplomat if I have to look out for Konoha’s best interest.”

“You’re high-strung from everything that has happened, it’s understandable, no one can fault you for being edgy,” Minato tries to reason with her and his fists grab the rail from behind her. He stands behind her, shielding her back from displeased looks and scowls. “Take your time. We’re negotiating.”

“Can we really negotiate if we’re demanding that they hand all their information over?” Sakura ponders over that, “Even though we’re the ones who decided to visit on _their_ soil, we’re the ones being punished for it.”

“Even so, if our ultimate goal is to put the _Mizuchi_ to rest, it’s a much better tactic to include our allies who are directly affected by this organization and use our supplies efficiently,” he considers the other angles, “We are stronger unified; destroying our coalition is _exactly_ what the _Mizuchi_ wants.”

“Divide and conquer,” she summarizes and he hums into her neck, “It almost worked too.”

“The attack was a distraction,” Minato concludes and looks over at the sea, “Their real goal must be to sink the relationships we have—or at least Water Country with the rest of the shinobi nations. If they’re looking to cripple that alliance, it would be easier for them to move in.”

Sakura knows that she can’t let her emotions cloud her judgment, because if she does, that’s how people die and hasty moves can cause more internal issues rather than external. She needs to restructure her kei pieces, if the _Mizuchi_ is looking to weaken their alliance, they aren’t doing a good job at it.

“We need to get back to Konoha,” Sakura announces suddenly and Minato agrees, “The longer we stay here, the more problems it’s going to cause and the people are more than traumatized by past events.”

“They are skittish,” he suggests.

“I don’t even understand what the point of this meeting was,” she mutters to herself and grasps the rails of the balcony tighter, “Shikamaru wasn’t exactly forthcoming.”

“I doubt he knows what this meeting was for either, it was sudden and not planned at all,” Minato scowls at that and covers her hands with his, “I think he believed Kakashi would wake up today and the issues would solve themselves.”

“Sounds like Shikamaru,” Sakura affirms with a light laugh, “Too troublesome for him to deal with.”

“Those packets he gave you last night were probably just a precaution,” he presumes. “He wasn’t sure if you would use them.”

“I did though,”

He pressed a kiss to her hairline, “I know.”

“Sakura-sama?” Chojuro’s voice comes from the left, shunshin from the conference room, and he walks towards her, slowly.

Sakura turns her body to face him and Minato orbits her until he’s at her six. She nods her head with a small smile, “Chojuro-sama.”

“I would like to speak with your privately,” he pauses and looks over at the ANBU hiding in the trees, “If you would please.”

She waves her hand and they disappear.

“Can I be frank, Sakura-sa—Sakura,” Chojuro straightens his shoulders and rests his hands behind his back.

Sakura’s eyebrows raise at the change in attitude, even Minato tenses behind her and she nods, “Yes.”

“We have a mole,” he tells her and narrows his eyes, “We have highly classified information being leaked. Our security, our, missions, even those off the books are being passed out like homemade dango.”

She squares herself and her voice drops, “Is this confirmed?”

“By my right hand,” Chojuro points to the top of the ceiling and looks over at the ocean, “I’ve been leaving traps, but so far I haven’t received anything. Our lack of shinobi is part of the problem.”

“That would explain how they weaved in and out of the security detail for Mei-sama’s funeral,” Sakura muses and she looks at the council room, “And the Elders?”

“They are aware,” he replies quickly, “However, they are stubborn and refuse to see way. I know I can trust you and Naruto, Sakura. Which is why I’ve come to ask for your counsel.”

She blinks rapidly and takes a step back. She inquires with incredulity, “ _My_ counsel?”

“Sakura, you rival the Nara in intelligence,” Chojuro looks at her funnily, “You helped defeat Kaguya, you’re the Godaime’s apprentice and the Rokudaime’s student. You’re best friends with the last Uchiha – even though we despise him – and with Naruto. You’re the best medical ninja in the _world,_ why wouldn’t I ask you for your counsel?”

 _I’ve been telling her the same thing for months, Chojuro,_ Minato sighs dramatically from behind her, _But she just doesn’t listen._

Sakura mentally slaps Minato on the arm and he winces at the blow.

“I just wasn’t expecting…” Sakura shakes her head when she realizes that she can’t finish the sentence, “I don’t think I’m the best person to offer you advice; seeing as how I’m not a Mist nin.”

“I know,” Chojuro says, “But I’m asking as a friend.”

Her resolve wavers then, rubbing her face with the palm of her hand, she concedes, “Go.”

“The _Mizuchi_ , have claimed responsibility for Kakashi-sama’s attack,” Chojuro drops that piece of information abruptly, “I received a letter earlier today; I did not discuss it with the elders because I don’t know _who_ I can trust.”

Sakura’s eyes sharpen, “You think it’s one of them.”

He pauses, “I don’t know.”

“Off the record,” she starts, “I would suggest keeping a tight circle. People you can trust with your life and then leave a trail. Misinformation will lead them into a trap. I would suggest something small, like, trade.”

“Trade?” Chojuro walks closer.

“Remember our trade agreement? It’s not fully set up yet, see if you can put a pretense in the treaty before sending a copy out to Konoha. Be sure to put _in case of,_ in very print,” Sakura instructs and her eyes darken, “Lead them into a trap.”

“Whoever follows the trail..” he trails off.

“…we can find the culprit then,” she finishes and crosses her arms, “I heard, unofficially of course…”

“Of course,” Chojuro agrees.

“That Ame has a boatload of refugees looking for a new place to settle,” Sakura says slowly and Minato stands next to her, “The war ravaged their homes. Of course, these refugees are welcomed in the Leaf, but I believe they would be comfortable in a place that resembles their home town. Better to acclimate towards, yes?”

“I would have to expand our foreign policy,” he muses.

“Or rip it apart and redo it,” she offers dryly, “The refugees must obviously become citizens and those who want to become nin…”

“Rain turned Mist shinobi?” Chojuro looks at her with wide eyes and takes a step back in shock.

“It will rebuild your forces, you gain more _loyal_ followers, flush out the mole and if they have any networks,” Sakura advises, “It would spike the economy obviously and strengthen the number of goods you’re exporting.”

“That’s highly unprecedented,”

“Leaf did it with Whirlpool,” she points out, “Though most of them decided to leave Fire Country, Naruto technically, is the son of an immigrant and he is highly valued in the capital; for reasons other than the obvious.”

“Drawbacks?”

“Internal issues,” Sakura offers, “Mist citizens would more than wary about Rain refugees, unifying them is key. Segregation might also be an issue. I suggest activities or festivals; those things to promote communication and mingling.”

Then Sasuke appears in front of her before Chojuro could reply. He looks minutely uncomfortable, but gives a quick bow to the Mizukage, “Kakashi is awake.”

Sakura stares at him for a moment and relief washes over her like a blanket. She nods, “Find Naruto, tell him we’re leaving.”

Sasuke flickers away.

“I’m sorry to cut this meeting short, but I need to get Kakashi-sensei to a proper hospital,” Sakura doesn’t mince words when she tells him.

“No, of course, I understand,” Chojuro shakes his head and offers his hand, “Please relay Kakashi-sama my regards, and,” he pauses with a small flush, “Thank you, Sakura.”

—

“So to be frank, I’m…just like Gai now?” Kakashi sounds so dejected that it would have been hilarious, if not for the serious situation. He sits in his own bed, in his apartment with a sulky pout and crossed arms.

“Well, Gai can use _some_ ninjutsu and a bit of genjutsu, you can’t, at all,” Naruto corrects him.

The Hokage shoots him a baleful glare.

“I’m sorry, Kakashi-sensei,” Sakura is so goddamn apologetic that her voice cracks a bit when she takes a seat on his bed and looks at her hands, “I tried—tried so _hard_ and I kept—”

“—Sakura,” Kakashi cuts her off with a squeeze of the hand and she looks at him with watery eyes, “It’s _okay._ Also, please don’t look at me like that, you look worse than Pakkun.”

Her laugh is wet, incredulous and hysterical, “ _Sensei—_ ”

“This was a risk, this entire visit was a risk,” he interrupts her again and squeezes her hand again, “We were prepared for this to happen.”

Minato glances at their interlocked hands.

“You mean _you_ were prepared,” Shikamaru interjects and scowls, “I was against this _entire_ thing from the beginning.”

Kakashi shrugs, “You win some, you lose some.”

“You lost your ninjutsu and genjutsu abilities, not to mention your _sharingan_ abilities as well,” Sasuke emphasizes in disbelief.

“How are you being so calm about this?” Sakura sniffles and almost starts crying again when Kakashi wipes away her tears.

“Because I expected something to happen,” Kakashi tugs a strand of pink hair behind her ear, “Going to Mist was a gamble. Especially with tension so high and the slaughter so close to this visit, but if we got _some_ type of information within Kiri—one that our hunter nins couldn’t get, it would’ve been worth it.”

“But did we?” Naruto frowns.

“Mist has a mole,” Sakura reveals suddenly and Shikamaru freezes at that, “Chojuro told me, privately and off-record. He said that the Mizuchi claimed responsibility and well, he alluded to that this might have been planned.”

“The attack?”

“Both seems to be connected,” she frowns and falls back onto the side of his bed, “He thinks it’s someone on the council.”

“There are only _five_ elders, Sakura,” Shikamaru points out.

“I know,” Sakura scoffs and wipes away the stray tears. “The list is short.”

“What are they even planning?” Sasuke sighs.

“They want to cripple the alliances we have or at least Mist has, this entire rouse was to create problems,” Shikamaru figured and shoves his hands in his pockets, “Their target really wasn’t Kakashi-sensei, they wanted to create enough fear that it would cause an avalanche of tensions—hopefully enough to pull us out of the peace talks.”

“Divide and conquer,” Sakura breathes, Minato walks to the foot of the bed and leans over her. He presses his palms into the sheets – Kakashi can _see_ the imprints of hands on his mattress next to his pink-haired student – and presses velvet kisses on her eyelids.

Dark eyes narrow when Sakura’s eyelids close and the pink of her eyelashes bend forward.

“The only thing we have to deal with, as of now, is the fact that Kakashi-sensei is out of commission,” Naruto drops the statement that they all have been dreading.

Shikamaru groans.

“He is _not_ out of commission,” Sakura snaps and sits up, “He still has taijutsu.”

“Which may be enough to outlast you kids,” Kakashi drawls out lazily, but then he finishes with, “It won’t be enough for the Elders and the council at least.”

“What are you talking about?” Sasuke frowns.

“It’s always the fallout, Uchiha,” Shikamaru looks over at Sakura, “We always have to worry about the fallout.”

“Konoha will never accept a leader that cannot use ninjutsu,” Kakashi declares bluntly and cracks his neck, “A Hokage of all things. We are the biggest militaristic leader in the world and having a Hokage who can’t use basic chakra will ruin our reputation. It’s an unspoken rule, but it still holds.”

Shikamaru knows this, “Once you tell the council that your chakra network is basically disabled they’re going to have to find a replacement.”

Kakashi looks at Sakura, “No, they’re not.”

Sakura stares at him, poleaxed and she exhales an incredulous laugh, “You can’t be serious.”

Naruto and Sasuke exchange a look of shock.

Kakashi’s eyes crinkle at the sides as he smiles and announces her fate, “Sakura will be our next Hokage.”


	15. gravity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: LIME ;D

“You know,” Sakura starts off, ducking underneath a white sheet behind the counter, and unhooks the cotton ribbons, “I don’t remember the store looking like this.”

“What? Covered in sheets?” Minato asks dryly and crouches over a box marked _fragile._

She rolls sea-foam orbs, “I meant that I don’t remember what the store looked like inside—I can’t believe no one has even _bought_ the store. It’s in the dead-center of town.”

“They can’t unless they have the deed,” he informs her and swipes over the counter with a stiff, dry rag, “I don’t know where that thing is.”

“But it’s been over twenty years,” Sakura points out and sneezes when the dust finds it’s way up her nose. She rubs her nose with the back of her hand and ignores the blonde’s half-smile, “Surely the patent would be up or something.”

“The store is covered by the Daiki amendment because it was from the Second’s administration, it’s exempt from the normal commercial regulation,” Minato explains and looks for a duster, “Of course, there are exceptions. Franchises for one can be shut down.”

“Because it’s not the original store?”

“Correct,” he grabs the duster from underneath the shelf and hands it to her, “The original _Tsubaki’s,_ this one, in town square is the only one under the Daiki amendment; I also don’t think the Sandaime would have it sold.”

“Because it belonged to you?” Sakura inquires and accepts the duster.

“Yes,” Minato agrees and then takes a seat on the counter, “But that was private knowledge, not public.”

“They would’ve demanded the store to open up if they found out,” she muses and glares at him for sitting on her newly cleaned counter. “But no one would’ve been able to keep the store open because no one knows the recipes, except you, of course.”

“I only know a _few_ of the recipes,” he snorts and crosses his arms, “Everything is written down in a book somewhere.”

“A _secret_ recipe book you say,” Sakura’s eyes glint mischievously and she swipes over the register.

“Secret? I don’t know. Hidden? Probably,” Minato chuckles and looks over the shop with thinly veiled nostalgia. “We used to have a sample counter on the left. I would give small pieces of our specialty cakes to the customers to taste and wrap bags of butter cookies.”

She smiles softly at the picture and asks, “Butter cookies?”

“You know the cookies that you have with tea?”

“The holiday ones?” Sakura pokes the sink and opens the tap. She’s pleasantly surprised that the plumbing works well, “I never liked those. They were too dry.”

“You’re supposed to _dip_ them in tea,”

“But they were _dry_ , Minato,” she rolls his name off her tongue like candy and then keeps it close to her cheek when she looks at him, “Besides, they only appeal to older people.”

Minato gives her a deadpanned look, “You mean the baa-chans.”

“Precisely,” Sakura laughs and rinses her hands, “Do you think kids have enough patience to eat them with tea?”

“I did,” he pouts, “I liked the matcha-flavor ones.”

“I’ve never had those,” she muses and walks over to him, “My mom wasn’t very keen on me drinking caffeine more or less drinking it.”

“I imagine you were very hyper? As a child?”

“No,” Sakura shakes her head, “I was very quiet and I kept to myself.”

“I remember,” Minato thinks back and his lips curl at the memory of a red ribbon, “I didn’t see everything, but I do remember seeing you read underneath Mitsuki’s Willow.”

“Mitsuki’s Willow was my favorite place to go to,” she reveals with a fond smile, “It was always quiet and no one would bother me.”

He runs his thumb over her lower lip and confesses, “I wish I was there with you. I wouldn’t have let them hurt you.”

There are implications to that statement. It could allude to anything and everything. Sakura doesn’t try to search for the double-entendre any more than she does lean into him. She holds his gaze and exhales, “I had to fend for myself, besides, I found some friends.”

“It’s not easy, coming from a civilian family or clan for that matter,” Minato knows this in his bones, the games were rigged from the beginning and he had to prove himself each inch of the way to stand on even ground.

“It’s not, even though my parents are shinobi—first-generation, yes, but they only kept going to a certain standard. They never wanted to improve; I did,” Sakura enlightens him with pieces of her history, “I wanted to be on equal footing with my teammates. I was always left in the dust when I was a genin. I struggled to reach their level.”

“And now you’re going to be Hokage,” he says warmly and pulls her closer to him, “What does that tell you?”

“That the Elders are desperate,” Sakura sniffs and crosses her arms underneath her chest, “I don’t think I have enough experience to be considered a Hokage candidate.”

“You do realize you’re a war veteran, right?” Minato raises a brow.

She pauses at that, “I mean, I am.”

“And you’re the best medical ninja in the world. You can’t compare yourself to Sasuke or Naruto—they’re fates have been written before the shinobi world was even created,” he soothes her frown with the brush of his fingers, “You are also the only mortal to punch Kaguya in the _face_ —that’s an automatic win in the world’s book. I think you’re allowed to give yourself some credit.”

“I don’t want to be Hokage,” Sakura whispers against his fingertips. “That’s Naruto’s dream. I have my hospital I have to run, there are children that I have to take care of and I just wanted,” she struggles, “I just wanted—”

“—recognition; respect. I know,” Minato summarizes for her.

“Now that I think about it, sounds childish; silly doesn’t it?” she says ruefully.

“Don’t apologize for being human, Sakura,” he presses his thumb against her jaw and presses his lip against her cheek. “It’s perfectly normal, acceptable, to desire appreciation and acknowledgment. It’s how your brain recognizes your self-worth.”

Sakura looks at him warily.

“What?” he frowns.

“You’ve been reading my psychology books, haven’t you?”

Minato flushes lightly in embarrassment, “I got bored,”

She grins at him in amusement, “Of course.”

“And I thought that if Ino-san can talk some sense into you using philosophy, I suppose I could use science,” he retorts.

“Interesting tactic,” Sakura teases him with mirth, “Appeal to the heart and mind.”

Minato smiles and wraps an arm around her hips, “It worked with you, didn’t it?”

She rolls her eyes and ignores the rapid thump in her chest, “I _am_ a scientist.”

“You also wear your emotions on your sleeve,” he reminds her and removes a piece of dust from her hair, “That takes courage and fearlessness; I do that sometimes too, but when you’re Hokage everything changes.”

“Perception,” Sakura exhales and forces her weight into her shoulders, “Is a funny thing.”

“How are you feeling?” Minato asks her once her breathing evens out, his finger twist at the edges of her hair, they tug on carnation strands and the slight sting keeps her thoughts from flying away.

“You _know_ what I’m feeling.”

“I want to hear it,”

Sakura doesn’t look at him when she whispers, “I’m _terrified.”_

He brings her face closer to him, “Of what? The Kageship?”

“I’m terrified they made a mistake,” she looks at him then. Ocean waves wash over emerald forests and they hold her in orbit. “What if I—”

“—stop. You have Kakashi, you have Tsunade-sama, Shikamaru,” Minato cuts her off with a curt shake of the head and presses his fingers into the back of her neck. He tells her with earnest sapphire orbs, “You have _me_ and I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Sakura looks at him tiredly, “Can you guarantee that?”

And that _stings._

It reminds him that he isn’t real, that he isn’t alive, and that she can’t even _touch_ him for that matter. It’s not something he likes to dwell on, because it saddens him in ways that no one could _ever_ describe. Minato doesn’t bother hiding the pain that she inflicts on him for one and she grimaces at her words, but she doesn’t apologize for it.

Minato tries again, “Do you trust me?”

“Of course, I do,” she replies without hesitation and blinks at him, almost as if she couldn’t believe the audacity of the question.

He smiles at that, “Do you believe me when I say that I know you can do this?”

Sakura startles at that and she takes a moment. A long moment to consider the weight of his question before she rests his forehead against his. She breathes against parted lips, “I do.”

—

“How was raiding _Tsubaki’s_? Did you find anything?” Shikamaru asks and hands her a file to sign off on.

“Half a taiyaki recipe, it looks complicated though. I left it back in the book,” Sakura replies absently and scribbles her name on the file.

“Troublesome,” he agrees and takes a sip of his tea, “Your coronation is in a few days.”

“I know,” she groans and drops her head onto the table, “I’m dreading the speech.”

“It’s already written,” Shikamaru frowns.

“Yeah, but I edited it to sound more like me.”

“The Elders won’t be pleased,”

“They can fuck off. After the shit they gave me and then they realized that I’m the only option, other than you, to become Hokage they’re going to police me?” Sakura scowls against the oak table and lifts her head up, “I’m not doing this for _them._ I’m doing this because—because I _have_ to.”

“I think you’re going to be a great Hokage, Sakura,” Shikamaru pats her head as if she’s Pakkun and smirks when she scowls at him, “Better than me at least.”

“You couldn’t give up your position as head of the clan, huh?”

“And get roped into politics? No thanks.”

“You say this as the Kage’s advisor,”

Shikamaru rubs the back of his head, “I didn’t say it was the _greatest_ idea, but kaa-chan told me to do it.”

“You’re so _cute,_ Shika,” Sakura teases and Minato shoots her a look.

“Shut up, Sakura,” he scowls despite his own embarrassment reaching the tops of his ears and looks over another packet, “I can’t believe Kakashi-sensei isn’t even announcing his step-down or your inauguration.”

“He does love the element of surprise,” she muses and pours herself a cup of tea, “I thought he would at least give a heads-up to the shinobi at the Jounin HQ.”

 _He wants them to be surprised,_ Minato interjects her train of thought.

 _Why?_ she frowns.

Minato leans in his chair and looks over a bank statement, _I don’t think Kakashi is announcing just exactly why he’s stepping down from office; abruptly at that._

 _If he did that, there would be an uproar, but it would also send the message that Konoha is weak,_ Sakura rationalizes, _Kakashi wants to keep this as secret as possible._

 _It’s dangerous,_ he knows this, _He’s vulnerable because of it._

 _Gai-sensei is with him,_ she reminds him, _Kakashi-sensei is a legend, he won’t go down without a fight. Besides he was a Hokage, he still gets the ANBU entourage, unfortunately._

 _Kakashi would like nothing more than to hole up in a tree or in his apartment reading,_ Minato snorts, _I don’t think the ANBU members are going to be too happy at that._

 _They’ll just get bored at the most,_ Sakura rolls her eyes.

“I was going to tell you, before went to Wave,” Shikamaru begins and he looks at her square in the eyes, “That I had some information for you, but things kept happening.”

“It’s been almost a month since we left Wave, Shika,” she replies with raised brows and sips her tea.

“Well Hokage preparations are a pain in the ass,” he counters with a groan and grabs his pack to pull out a scroll, “Remember that scroll we found in the vault? The one in Whirlpool dialect?”

Sakura nods slow.

“I deciphered it,” Shikamaru reveals and unravels the scroll, “According to the ninjutsu equation and the fūinjutsu Yondaime-sama used, he sealed his Yin chakra to you; I know he said the scroll had demonic chakra, but it wasn’t a lot. It wouldn’t have made a difference if you absorbed the demonic chakra—anyway, it was his Yin chakra that would’ve sealed the Kyuubi. That was the point, yes?”

“A failsafe,” Sakura agrees.

“Now, did he do this while equating his natural energy?”

 _Yes,_ Minato nods.

“Yes,” Sakura answers for him and then frowns, “But we’ve been through this already.”

“I have to confirm all of this again, for my own peace of mind,” Shikamaru sighs so deep that it resounds in his bones, “And did he add a summoning seal?”

“That’s how I summoned him, yes?”

“I mean, did he add two?” he clarifies.

Minato pauses, _why two?_

“No, but why does there need to be two summoning seals?” Sakura asks slowly and she’s not sure if she’s going to like the answer.

“One, to summon the chakra from the scroll and two is to call the summon off,” Shikamaru explains and points to a copy of the equation, “By activating his natural energy _first,_ after using the first summoning seal, the cipher for his natural chakra negates his natural energy because there is no _second_ summoning seal.”

Sakura stares at him, “You’re losing me Shikamaru—if you’re saying that his natural chakra and his natural energy negated each other, then his spiritual energy is the only thing unbound because the remainder of his chakra didn’t disperse until I activated it, so wouldn’t that mean that…”

“That the Yondaime is stuck in a space-time ninjutsu?” he says with exasperation, “That’s _exactly_ what I’m saying.”

She gapes and sits up immediately, “Wouldn’t that mean—”

Minato stiffens in shock.

“—that he’s alive?” Shikamaru says with a half-smile, “Yes. He’s stuck in the summoning jutsu plane of existence. Kakashi-sensei told me that Pakkun could see him and then I remembered that the hiraishin is related to a summoning jutsu, so I _thought,_ what if he’s stuck in a different realm? It’s not impossible but it’s not highly likely either.”

“But I summoned him with _blood,_ technically,” Sakura replies poleaxed.

“Which caused him to be bound to you. It’s the same way summons work, right? Once you summoned Katsuyu-sama she automatically bound herself to you.”

“I signed a _contract_ with Katsuyu-sama,” she argues.

“The scroll acted as one,” Shikamaru continues and looks down at the last part of the equation, “Because the Fourth didn’t add a second summoning seal; the equation is technically incomplete, which is why he’s stuck in the summoning realm. His spirit energy, which is his soul, is bound to you because of it.”

She stares at him in half disbelief and something treacherous, like _hope._

“The Yondaime opened the gate, but he didn’t close it and so he’s stuck in this plane of existence,” he summarizes, “He doesn’t have a body, because it’s _dead._ But, there have been rumors, theories that it’s possible to bring a body back, but not the soul.”

Sakura’s head throbs from the onslaught of information, it’s dizzying, to say the least, and she tries to find some _clarity_. It doesn’t help that Minato has been shocked silent. She licks her lips, “Okay. So—so Minato is _alive_ because he sealed his chakra in the scroll. Yin chakra which is spiritual and so his soul never left. It just kept living in the summoning jutsu plane of existence. Until I activated the seal, he’s been what? At rest?”

“More like stagnant,” Shikamaru considers and reminds her, “Remember he was sealed in a scroll. Chakra is a moving, living thing—he never really _died._ He just wasn’t in our realm of existence.”

“I don’t understand where you’re going with this,” she lies, because she has an inkling as to _where_ this could go.

“Either the Yondaime passes over or he stays here,” he states bluntly.

“But that would require unbinding him,” Sakura points out.

“I have no idea how to unbound him, I don’t even know where to _look,_ ” Shikamaru confesses with frustration, “Summoning contracts cannot be broken. It’s for _life._ The only person who may know how to find a body or get his body back—anything remotely dealing with death and resurrection _is_ Orochimaru.”

She grimaces at that.

“I know and I don’t think we should cross that bridge. At _all,_ ” he looks back over at the scroll, “He went around the bend more than once before he defected and Konoha still let him off easy after his experimentations which were _human rights_ violation—I don’t _want_ to open that door, Sakura.”

“I’m agreeing with you Shika,” Sakura reminds him ardently, “I think I’m still in _shock_ —you’ve shocked Minato into silence. So, I—” she huffs a breath and looks to Minato who just stares at the scroll quietly, “I’m trying to process.”

“Believe me,” Shikamaru snorts, “You’re doing a much better job than I was when I figured it out in Mist. I had at least three mental breakdowns. I mean, the Yondaime isn’t even _dead,_ he’s just stuck. The only real question is: does he want to live or does he want to pass on?”

—

As Director of the Children’s Hospital, Sakura has her duties to attend to, but moreover, she needs to find a replacement to be her Chief of Medicine. Tsunade-sama still controls the main hospital, her best hope is to get Shizune to take over; she’s the only medical ninja that Sakura can trust for that matter. Relinquishing her control over her hospital is just as painful as it is seeing her plaque on the door of her office removed.

She can try to distract herself as much as she wants to, but what it comes down to is the words that Shikamaru had uttered earlier that day.

Minato was _alive._

He’s _alive._

Sakura wonders how many times she has to say it to believe it.

“So,” Sakura clears her throat and looks at Minato who sits against the ledge of her window, “You’re alive.”

Minato stares at her, clears his throat and struggles to convey his emotions, “I had a feeling, that maybe I was. I’ve become more _real_ in the last few months.”

“You’ve been touching things, you can lift them and move them around,” she agrees and takes a seat in her chair, “I know, but I still can’t touch you.”

“Ironic, isn’t it?” he smiles dryly.

“Ironic how?” Sakura crosses her legs and looks at him curiously.

“The one thing—person I want to touch me, can’t,” Minato replies quietly and his fingers slide over her knee, “Is it penance? Maybe.”

Sakura blinks, straightens up suddenly, interweaves her fingers with his and demands, “Where is this coming from?”

“I’ve done a lot of things during my kageship that I’m not proud of,” he rubs his face tiredly, “There were a lot of choices that I could’ve made differently. An example would be putting Kakashi in ANBU after his teammates had been killed, shadowing Naruto who was still in Kushina at this point and it was a mistake.”

“You’re right, it was a _mistake,_ ” Sakura agrees, she doesn’t sugarcoat it for him and she doesn’t think he would appreciate it if she did. She tightens her fingers around his when he flinches at that, “But Kakashi-sensei isn’t a child anymore and, I think you did well for someone who didn’t have much experience with children.”

Minato looks at her incredulously.

“Kakashi ended up being Rokudaime,” she shrugs and smiles at him, “Obito ended up finding peace and Rin is with him. There were, things, that you could have never predicted Minato, and you couldn’t stop them either. But, what you can do, is do better. Kakashi-sensei said he did a lot of things he wasn’t proud of either, but he didn’t stop living.”

“As Hokage, I should’ve foreseen—”

“—you’re not a God, Minato,” Sakura shakes her head and leans back into her chair, “The game has been rigged for us from the beginning. You know this. Naruto and Sasuke are the Gods reincarnate and we’re the fallout. We’re self-made shinobi, Minato,” she grins here, “The best kind.”

Minato locks onto her jade orbs with sea-colored storms, salt, and moonlight. The blues ripple across the iris, deepening at the pupil. He can’t remember the last time he’s ever felt so _free_ before, free as in, he doesn’t need to _pretend_ or hide his own emotions or thoughts from anyone before. He can’t remember feeling this sort of warmth—the type of warmth that ignites in his stomach like a hot stone against the skin. Warmth, that crackles in fissures of earth, light, bending, and breaking into impossible angles.

He certainly can’t remember _ever_ feeling this type of _longing_ before.

The deep, sharp desire to _have_ Haruno Sakura, whether it’s in his arms or in his life is overwhelming.

His fingers shake as he tries to contain himself and the emotions that threaten to leak from every pore of his real but non-existent body is devastating. He doesn’t know when this happens, maybe it’s been happening for months, weeks and days, but his resolve strengthens into one resembling a stone, with gems laying over the glossy enamel in rivets, a pillar.

A symbol of strength, willpower, and one that demands acknowledgment.

So Minato leans in and presses a kiss to the corner of her lips, purposefully brushing over her lips in a gentle tease and he can’t fight back the smirk when she unconsciously chases his lips from the tingle of nerves there.

Minato doesn’t hide his gratitude, his adoration and he most certainly doesn’t hide his _desire_ for her.

Sakura can only stare at him with stars in her eyes.

—

“How would you like one last mission before you take the Kageship, Sakura-chan?” Kakashi smiles at her sweetly and she has to hide her shiver of trepidation.

“I assume that I don’t have a choice,” Sakura doesn’t trust that smile one _bit_ and she backs up until Minato’s chest is at her back.

“Oh you _always_ have a choice, Sakura-chan,” his eyes crinkle at the edges and presses his fingers onto the table gently, “How about it? One last bang before you’re strapped to this _very_ uncomfortable chair, hm?”

Shikamaru snorts from his desk.

She crosses her arms underneath her chest, “Kakashi-sensei.”

“Yes, my favorite student?”

She scowls in frustration, “Spit it out,”

“Is that any way you talk to your favorite sensei?”

Sakura cocks a brow, “I don’t see Tsunade-shishou anywhere.”

Kakashi presses a hand on his chest in mock-hurt, though there is a thread of truth to the statement that makes him ache all the same, and looks at her with sad eyes, “Sakura-chan—”

 _For the love all the Gods,_ Minato rolls his eyes.

Sakura hides a smile with her hand and turns to look at Shikamaru, “ _Please_.”

Shikamaru sighs, “Troublesome,” he grabs a scroll from a nearby package and glances at the seal for confirmation before tossing it to her, “That’s your mission.”

“Sasuke will be the one to brief you,” Kakashi interjects as she unravels the scroll.

Sakura raises her brows at that and repeats, “Sasuke?”

“Here,” Sasuke sits on the window ledge with his standard frown and replies, “Naruto and I did a scouting mission in Mist during our mission.”

“I know, I sent you both to scout,” she says patiently.

“When the chakra trail went cold, Naruto and I split up to cover more ground,” he explains and drops a piece of cloth on Kakashi’s desk.

“ _Tell me,_ you didn’t leave Kiri without notifying anyone,” Sakura narrows her eyes in irritation, “Tell me you didn’t do anything _stupid,_ again.”

Sasuke flinches at that, “We stayed within the border. We didn’t leave the country. I’m not stupid, Sakura.”

She gives him a _look._

Naruto snickers from the other side of the window and swings a leg over the ledge, “We left a few false trails, but we also set up a few traps.”

“Spies?”

“More like gossip,” he shrugs and nudges his teammate to explain.

“One of my contacts got a tip,” Sasuke reveals and pulls out the map from his back pocket, “In Ame, there’s a village outside the capital. Someone is trying to recruit members for the Mizuchi.”

 _It sounds familiar,_ Minato comments lightly in her hear.

_The recruitment or Ame?_

_Both,_ he considers, _Reminds me of the Akatsuki. They recruited members as well as had a hideout residing in Rain._

 _I remember,_ Sakura thinks about that, _But they aren’t anywhere near the Akatsuki’s hideouts. We’ve destroyed all of them._

 _Yes, but it’s the same blueprint as a terrorist organization,_ Minato reminds her, _They’re always going to need more people to strengthen their forces._

 _Do you think this is why the refugees are leaving Rain?_ she puts the pieces together, _Not just because of the devastation the villages took, but because there’s something growing there? I mean they can always rebuild their homes._

 _Not if there isn’t enough money,_ he says, _It always comes down to capital._

_Surely, they can’t be completely broke. What resources do they have? Trade will always flourish if they have something of value._

Minato breathes a chuckle into her hair, _I’m not an encyclopedia, Sakura._

 _Are you sure?_ Sakura almost smiles.

“What are you thinking, Sakura-chan?” Naruto looks at her curiously.

“There is a precedent to this,” she changes her tone abruptly and doesn’t read the scroll just yet, “Akatsuki. They tried to recruit more members too.”

“You think there is a connection?” Kakashi inquires.

“I think that it’s solidifying the fact that they are a terrorist organization,” Sakura clarifies.

“Akatsuki had their goal: world peace,” Sasuke sounds almost defensive, “It was outlandish and borderline mad, but it wasn’t born from evil.”

“Are you defending them, Uchiha?” Shikamaru asks in outrage.

“Of course not,” he sniffs, “I’m saying, do you think the Akatsuki would have members hiding in brothels?”

Sakura stumbles backward and Minato holds her against him tightly. She questions him disbelievingly, “What the _hell_ does that mean?”

“The Akatsuki wanted world peace and as outlandish as that was, they wanted to stop suffering, they wanted to stop unnecessary deaths, they wanted spare the innocent and keep children safe. They wanted to stop the pain. The organization wasn’t created for an evil purpose even though it did end up falling down the line of immoral,” Sasuke summarizes and looks down at the map, “But do you think the Akatsuki would have members in brothels? Prostitution? Human trafficking? Their organization _spat_ on things like that.”

“The Akatsuki had their heart in the right place but the execution lay on the evil side,” Naruto rolls his eyes at his teammate’s dramatics, “Sasuke is just touchy because he was part of the organization.”

Sasuke bristles from the corner, “The point is, Akatsuki had a noble deed and refused to do things that they _knew_ were human right violations and considered corrupt. The _Mizuchi_ has no such morals. They have a member recruiting shinobi in the brothels of _Kōzui._ ”

“Your contact told you that there was someone recruiting member for the _Mizuchi_ in a village on the outskirts of Ame?” Sakura reiterates.

“Yes,” Sasuke confirms.

“How accurate is this information?” she demands and looks at Kakashi, “Can we trust this contact?”

Naruto snorts, “Of course, he’s Chojuro’s right hand.”

“And Chojuro-sama knows this?” Sakura inquires hesitantly.

“Yes, but because of his mole situation, he can’t deal with it himself,” Kakashi explains.

“He shouldn’t deal with it,” Shikamaru scowls, “He can’t afford to send his nin out to patrol the area.”

“Shikamaru is right,” she agrees, “We’re going to have deal with it, not just because this is Mist’s problem, but it’s ours now. They started with Mist because they’re the easiest to take out, but they want to include Konoha in their dealings as well.”

“If they’re targeting shinobi countries, we might not be the last,” Naruto offers.

Sakura opens the scroll and reads the contents.

She freezes before Minato gets to the second line.

“This is a seduction mission,” Sakura declares blandly and she locks her gaze onto Kakashi who straightens up.

“Yes.”

Minato’s arm tightens around her waist, it tightens to the point where Sakura’s back has to arch in order to accommodate her breathing.

“The target we have identified is Miyagi Toma, he is an immigrant from Stone country, but that’s about all we know,” Sasuke covers more ground from there, “There are no known skills or techniques.”

“He doesn’t look like someone who goes to brothels,” Sakura comments and looks at the picture on the scroll. He’s clean-shaven, with dark hair and red eyes.

“Looks can be deceiving,” Sasuke says.

Sakura looks at him with a certain intensity that has him itching to take back those words and affirms, “I know.”

“It’s a seduction mission,” Kakashi changes the tone quickly, “Your mission is to capture Miyagi Toma, he needs to be brought back for interrogation. Ibiki is _itching_ to have him in T&I. We need him _alive,_ but if circumstances change, kill him.”

She puts her scroll in her back pocket.

“I _hate_ to send you on missions like this,” he sighs and crosses his arms underneath his chest, “But you’re the only one who came in contact with them. You know how they talk, how they speak and how they act. You killed a half a dozen members and lived to tell the tale. You have a better handle on them; I really _hate_ to send you out to the wolves especially since the last mission to Mist went to hell.”

Sakura grimaces.

“I’m sending Naruto with you, he has a secondary mission, but I would rather you have some backup,” his eyes sharpen and his fingernails dig into his palms, “We don’t know _what_ we’re dealing with, I’m not taking any more chances. He’ll be in your area, but this is still considered an ANBU solo-mission.”

 _Refuse the mission,_ Minato stresses tightly.

 _Have you lost your mind? I can’t refuse the mission,_ Sakura hisses back, _We finally have information on this terrorist group and you want me to refuse it?_

 _It’s a seduction mission, Sakura!_ he snaps.

She bites the inside of her cheek, _I know._

And she throws her wall up.

Minato is _furious._

He doesn’t bother hiding her emotions from her. Sakura gets the full brunt of his anger, even if it’s non-verbal, she can feel her veins are _singing_ with bloodlust and she knows that’s all Minato’s. He doesn’t speak to her, not when she accepts the mission and tells Naruto that they will leave tomorrow afternoon. Not even when she gets home and tosses her bag on the couch.

Sakura did try to talk to him when they left the Hokage Towers, but he refused to see reason. Instead, he walked away from her and scowled at her furiously when she started to explain to the logic of her decision.

Then he had the _audacity_ to throw up a _mental wall,_ at _her._

Sakura had never been so disrespected in her _life._

She grabs a few riceballs from her refrigerator, chomps on it with irritation and drinks a large glass of water before taking a shower. She doesn’t even look back to see if Minato’s watching her, he’s probably be in her living room sulking at the _wall_ for all she knows. She scrubs her skin furiously and rinses her hair.

Sakura looks in the mirror after nearly sliding on the tile to her doom and wonders if she should cut her hair.

It reaches mid-back now and it’s the longest she’s ever had it.

She tosses on a big t-shirt and a pair of underwear before running a comb through her hair, she’s not sure if she’s willing to give up Minato’s strange hair fetish—his fingers are _divine_ when they’re tangled in her scalp and pressing against the muscles in her neck; not that she would tell him.

Sakura rummages in her medicine cabinet and looks for a small blue bottle. She gives the bottle a long look. It’s technically not sleeping pills, it’s melatonin. A simple hormone that would help her relax and sleep.

She smiles sharply; he can’t _ignore_ her when they’re on the island.

She figured that she would be too angry and high-strung to sleep normally anyway, and she doesn’t really take sleeping medication. Even when she came back from Mist that first time, Minato was there for her, she could bury herself in his arms and forget the world.

She knows she’ll be fine.

But it’s time to put Minato in his place; she pops the pill. 

Sakura goes to her room and isn’t surprised to see Minato not waiting for her.

She falls asleep ten minutes later.

—

Sakura wakes up in a meadow this time. She can hear the ocean, about five hundred feet away. She hasn’t been this inland before, the smell of honeysuckle and rose tickles her nose. She wrinkles her nose cavity and sits up. She’s barefoot, wearing a white crop and soft blue cotton shorts; loungewear.

She sees Minato, his hair like a beacon on the small mound of earth to her right.

His eyes are closed, but his jaw is tense.

Sakura scowls and walks over to him. She’s careful not to disturb him when she crouches down and bites out, “You have _some_ nerve.”

“What are you—” Minato sits up abruptly and the sudden visual stimuli cause her to stumble on the grass.

Before Sakura could fall on her ass, he steadies her with a hand on her hip and the other on her shoulder. He miscalculates her weight and ends up having her topple over him. She straddles his hips and he ends up pressed against the grass. Her head smooshes against the junction between his throat and collarbone, “ _Ow._ ”

“Are you alright?” Minato helps her sit up, his hands already checking her head for bumps and blue eyes glint with concern.

She wants to melt into his hands, but then she remembers that she’s supposed to be _mad_ at him.

Sakura slaps his hands away and tries to grasp for her anger that is attempting to escape her fingertips, “You—what the _hell_ is wrong with you?”

He narrows his eyes, “Me? I was checking to see if you hurt—”

“No, you _idiot,_ ” she scowls, “I meant earlier. Did you really think I would turn down the mission? For what reason? We _finally_ get an opportunity to put a nail down in the _Mizuchi_ and you think—”

“Do you ever think things through before you do them?” Minato snaps and as much as he’s angry with her, he makes sure that she’s comfortable on the grass before he goes on, “You know I _hate_ seduction missions; it’s not worth the stain that it leaves behind. The Mizuchi _tortured_ you, for _fun._ They put their hands on you and I _saw_ —saw what they _did_. You’re going to go on a seduction mission on the slim notion that a member _might_ be there! You don’t know that they’re there at all!”

Sakura hears what he’s saying but she isn’t _listening,_ “That’s why I have to go! I’m the only one who has dealt with them; I hate seduction missions too. But I cannot let them get away with what they almost did to Kakashi-sensei, what _they did_ to me.”

Minato knows in his bones that she’s right, but the _fear,_ the crippling fear of seeing her—

“—so you’re just going to let them _touch_ you _,_ is that it?” he snarls and the blue eyes storm in hurricanes. He twists his fingers in her hair and tugs her closer, “Put their hands on you _again_?”

Sakura can feel his _fury_ like it’s sitting behind her teeth waiting to slink around her throat and hold her breathless, “Do you not trust me?”

“Of course, I trust you—it’s _them,_ that I don’t trust,” Minato spits out and sometimes he wants to strangle for her to see reason.

“I can take care of myself, I’ve been doing it for a long time,” Sakura snaps, she tries to rationalize with him, but the anger is seeping out of each pore, water on ice and it burns.

“You’re missing the point,” he bites and runs a hand through wild straw-colored locks. Then his eyes snap open when ideas form like cloudbursts behind his eyes and he looks at her with a certain intensity that sends a shiver down her spine, “Show me.”

She snarls at him in exasperation, “Show you _what?”_

“Show me that you can take this seduction mission,” Minato’s posture changes to indolent immediately, there’s a test hidden in those words of his and ocean orbs chip into storms, “Show me that I have _nothing_ to be worried about.”

“What is _that_ going to solve?” Sakura scoffs and stands up abruptly. Her words are cruel and selfish, “To give _you_ some peace of mind—doesn’t benefit me in any way.”

“I’m not letting you go unprepared to face those dogs,” Minato’s voice is _cold_ , colder than she’s ever heard it. He sits up stiffly and is ready to strike, “Prove to me that you’re not letting your past trauma force you into a situation that you’re not ready for. Prove to me that you’re—”

She cuts him off with a laugh that’s unkind and wild at the edges, “—that I’m capable? Is that where you’re going with this?”

Minato swipes her legs with his foot and she topples to the ground in a huff. He can’t ever remember a time where he’s been so violent with a woman, but Sakura brings out the best and _worst_ sides of him. His fingers grasp her chin and force her to kneel over him. He asks with sharp sapphire gems and there is no remorse or finesse when he demands, “Are you a virgin?”

Sakura almost jerks back in shock at the question and her anger melts into hesitation; she never thought they would end up here. So she blinks once and falters in her anger, “No.”

He brings his thumb over her bottom lip, he pulls at the flesh there until there’s a hint of teeth and murmurs darkly, “Are you lying to me?”

“No,” Sakura replies quietly, she sounds more honest this time and offers softly, “It was only once though.”

Minato doesn’t know how to feel about that, but the lightning in his gut crackles at the thought of someone else’s hands on Sakura, lips on her skin, fingers in her hair, and her eyes—jade embers against dusk. Feral in his possessiveness, unadulterated in his protection and selfish in his desire.

She sees his gaze drop her to lips and she stops breathing when his sky-blue darkens to the blue of a hurricane. His nails bite at the back of her neck in anticipation, a sharp sting of static sends goosebumps over her flesh, tightening her nipples into pebbles against the thin of her top and her pupils dilate. The tension tightens in ropes, coils of silk, and heat. Minato doesn’t move, he holds her there, suspended in white-hot steel and longing.

The molecules in Sakura’s body thrum in eagerness, the throbbing need to curl around him, and the _pressure_ —the pressure to have him everywhere and anywhere overcomes her. Her fingers shake with barely restrained control and— _and_

—she makes the decision for him.

Sakura kisses him first.

She kisses him furiously, her lips are smooth against the rough of his bottom lip and his hands clasp at the back of her neck. Minato doesn’t hesitate, he kisses her just as fiercely, fingers tangling in long carnation strands, he angles her head so he can curl his tongue against his cheek. Her fingers touch his face, they are voracious, greedy to map out the angles of his face, the satin of his skin, the lush of his wild golden hair, and the hard muscles of his shoulders.

She’s been so deprived of him, the need to touch him, to sink into him and to _feel._

Sakura is wrapped up in the heat of him, overwhelming in his taste, the fire, the flames that sear into her gut, and cradle in between her hips. She has never felt such desire, such _desperation_ , such need for a person, for a man before and she _wants_ it.

She wants him.

Sakura wants him so _much,_ that she feels like she could fall apart without as much as a _taste_ —

Minato doesn’t stop to breathe when he pulls her bottom lip in between his teeth and set the indents there. He pulls her closer to him until she’s straddling his hips and she takes a seat on his hips unconsciously. Sakura slips her fingers underneath his shirt, the buttons popping with each twist of her fingers. She maps the contours of his muscles with the pads of her fingers and groans when he grounds her hips into his.

He pulls back from her abruptly and hisses when she rakes a hand down his chest. He bites at her neck and whispers, “Don’t forget your main target.”

“Are you a target?” Sakura ghosts over his mouth, a finger tracing the lines of his abdomen, a nail presses into his navel and he hums against her throat.

Minato doesn’t answer, he marks her throat, fingers slipping underneath her shirt, and he touches her _everywhere._ His palms cover her back, tracing her whip marks, sliding over her ribs, circling her navel and up her breasts. He doesn’t remove any clothing when he cups her breasts, his thumbs circle her nipples lightly, a mere tickle and she squeezes her thighs around his hips.

“You should see me as one,” he breathes over her clavicle and mumbles something incoherent when she runs her tongue down his jaw.

“I don’t,” Sakura hitches a breath, her fury leaves her, something sharper, but no less intense washes over her and she nips at his throat here. She’s dizzy with the scent of him and drunk from the taste of him as she sucks a violet against his pulse.

Minato pinches and pulls the taut buds until they nearly spark from the torturous friction. Sakura swivels her hips onto him in a reflex, the air leaves her teeth, whistling and she _aches._ Then she yelps when his teeth capture the nipple protruding from her clothed chest and she squirms. Her voice is a plea and a reprimand in one, “ _Minato_.”

His tongue is slow against the sting, a tease over clothing, and then his fingers drop to her thighs. He widens his palm to feel more of her flesh, sliding up her hips and back down to her thighs. Minato is insistent as caresses her lower back to her bottom, parting her thighs even more until her knees dig into the grass.

Sakura buries her head into his neck, her nose gliding down the path of his windpipe and she arches her back when he gets closer and then—

_“—we should have some more fun with her, shouldn't we,” he laughs and slides a finger up her thigh—_

—she stiffens and heart thumps harder in her chest.

But Minato, Minato _knows,_ he always _knows_. He gives her the control, lays on his back, and whispers into her ear, soothing her, “I’m here, it’s _me_ —breathe with me.”

In hindsight, Sakura knows what he’s doing, because Minato will try to protect her as much as he tries to help her. He’s going to help her work through her trauma, the trauma that is her own body—her body against her own _mind,_ but she must face it or she will crumble before she even begins.

Minato curls his thumb against her femoral artery, stroking the skin their gently and presses. It’s like a _switch_ and she pushes down onto his groin. He groans in response but keeps his eye on her pulse and presses a kiss to her temple when she whimpers in response, “That’s it, Sakura.”

He erases their touch, replaces their touch with his, warming her skin in sunlight, but the sun sits in her core burning her nerves and her blood.

Minato slips his fingers underneath her shorts and slowly, she eases against him. He runs a thumb at the corner of her underwear and spreads his fingers to cover more ground. When he slips both his thumbs underneath her underwear, he can feel the moisture practically condense over his digits as he hovers just above her heat.

“Fuck,” he hisses and drops his head onto her shoulder, “You’re _soaked._ ”

Sakura’s hips twitch and she can’t remember ever feeling so _frustrated_ before, but then he cups her sex with one palm. He covers her, never pushing, never moving, just resting over her quivering flesh and she whines in exasperation, “ _Minato_.”

“Hush,” Minato placates her with a kiss against the corner of her eye and caresses her inner thighs, sliding over her flesh, his palm is nothing but a brush of a feather and she writhes against him. She coats his palm with her own slick and he strokes just the outside of her folds with his pointer finger.

He burns her from the inside out, never once touching, ghosting over her aching sex and it’s torture in its own right.

Sakura captures his lips and kisses him into a frenzy. White, pearly teeth catch his bottom lip and her fingers dig into his scalp. She angles him up, straining his throat as her frustration takes precedent and she kisses him like she wants to devour him. She pulls back to plead, to whisper against his lips, “Please, _please,_ please, Minato— _please._ ”

Minato’s patience thins, she grinds harder onto his hand, the tip of his fingernail catches the swollen bundle at the top and she arches back underneath the sky, keening for _more_ —

—Sakura is back in her room blinking blearily at her ceiling.

—

Sakura stares at her ceiling in disbelief. Minato isn’t in her room to see her throw her pillow at the ground in exasperation. She hisses, “ _Fuck_.”

The thing is, Minato has effectively erased those feelings of the who had _touched_ her, that she can’t even _remember_ what it felt like, because now all she can think about is _him_. To know there is one person who holds so much power over her and her emotions is almost terrifying. But at the same time, it’s so _liberating,_ to know that someone knows you so thoroughly, so _intimately_ —

—Sakura exhales deeply.

She _wants_ him.

She wants him so _bad_ that it borders on _manic_. Sakura has never wanted someone the way she wants Minato and she doesn’t just _want_ him. She wants his passion, his adoration, his focus, his attention, his intelligence, his strength—she wants _everything_ and that frightens her. This entire thing—the chakra, the binding, the energy, it built and built until all this pressure couldn’t contain itself anymore.

Sakura licks her lips and she’s so _upset_ that she can’t taste him on her lips anymore.

They were the endgame. This mission laid all the cards on the table, it was the point of no return and she will never _regret_ it.

It has always been inevitable. They have been gravitating towards each other for a long time, dancing around the space that they have yet to determine, and ultimately, it was a matter of time before they collided.

Sakura lays in her bed, wet, willing, and _wanting._

_Wanting._


	16. orbit

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay, Sakura-chan?” Naruto asks for the nth time and looks at her with concern, “You look exhausted.”

Sakura’s lips thins, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. She brushes her hair back and reassures, “I’m fine Naruto. I was just up all night thinking of a plan.”

She’s like through her fucking _teeth_ because all she did last night was think about Minato with those _fingers_ and his _mouth_ —

“Oh, what is the plan then?” he asks curiously and leans against a nearby tree.

She wonders how fucked up it is to be fantasizing about his father when his son is right in front of her; a lot, probably. Sometimes she glances at the trees and wonders if Zetsu is going to swallow her whole. This entire life is weird, she thinks. Naruto and Sasuke being descendants of Gods trumps the weird factor; she’s not justifying it, but she’s tired of thinking of the inescapable.

Still, Sakura won’t be sorry for it.

Minato’s lips against hers felt like home and she wants to stay wrapped up in the taste—the heat that is him.

“The plan is for me to get in and get out; I have to calculate your secondary mission in terms of timing. Will it take long?” Sakura distracts herself by glancing at the entrance to the village.

“It’s a regular scouting mission,”

“For what?”

Naruto shrugs, “Something about a priest.”

“A priest?” her eyes sharpen at that, “I haven’t heard any intel about a _priest_?”

“Kakashi-sensei sends me on the strangest missions,” he replies with a huff and grabs a scroll from his pouch, “The last time he sent me on a solo mission it was to pick up a box of ero-manga from a foreign writer.”

Sakura almost laughs, “So not too long then?”

“A day at most,”

She nods, “I’m going to gather some information, once I get the confirmation I’ll infiltrate. When I get to our target, I’m going to need you on standby to grab him so I can sneak out without too much trouble. I would use the hiraishin to disappear, but I don’t want to alert anyone with the chakra fluctuation.”

“Sounds simple enough,” Naruto agrees and then looks at her with serious sky-blue eyes, “Are you sure you’re going to be okay? I’ll kick anyone’s ass if they touch you, plus with the whole Wave mission—I could stay with you and do my mission last.”

“I’m fine, Naruto,” Sakura says automatically and rubs her neck absently, “But let me know when you’re in the area, okay?”

His eyes focus on her for one moment and she shifts uncomfortably. Then he shakes his head and gives her a strange look, “Alright, see you, Sakura-chan.”

She frowns at his expression for a minute and then turns her head to look at the entrance to _Kozui._ It’s not raining, but it is cloudy and the fog blurs the lights from the red lanterns that are strung outside the main gates.

“A red-light district?” Sakura murmurs to herself and walks closer to the gate.

“Looks like it,” Minato whispers in her ear and she has half a mind to scream.

Instead, she turns around to glare at him and hisses, “I know you’re a ghost and everything, but sneaking up on me while I’m about to go on a mission is a _no_.”

“You should be more aware of your surroundings,” he replies coolly and leans back against the tree. His expression is unreadable, but Sakura can read the tension sitting against the muscles of his shoulders and it rests there, observing.

“I don’t think most people have a ghost haunting them,” Sakura rolls her eyes and turns back to face Kozui with sharp jade chips. Part of their routine is to ignore the tension, the chemistry that rests heavy in between the two of them, like a wet towel. Even when she woke up, she took a shower—another one, with the coldest water she could tolerate and sat on the floor of her bathtub.

Minato doesn’t say anything to her when she dressed then but opened his mouth when she finished dyeing her hair. He had frowned and twisted an obsidian strand, “I think I prefer the pink.”

“It’s temporary,” Sakura was grateful to break the silence and tries to smoothen out the atmosphere with a dry joke, “Beside don’t you think I look more attractive with dark hair—more proper?”

Minato doesn’t laugh at her joke and her smile just about drops. Instead, he walks towards her, tangles his fingers in her newly-dyed dark hair and tugs until she bares her throat to him. His tongue dips in the hollow of her clavicle and runs a line up her throat until he’s at her ear.

Sakura can’t dig her fingers into his back when he rakes his teeth underneath her jawline and nips at her earlobe. She trembles with anticipation and she fucking _hates_ that she can’t touch him. Minato whispers in her ear, “You don’t look like _my_ Sakura with black hair.”

She blinks when he releases his grip on her hair and exhales roughly when he presses his lips to her cheekbone, “ _Your_ Sakura?”

His thumb rubs over a patch of skin just against her throat, nips her bottom lip, and declares quietly, “ _My_ Sakura.”

Minato didn’t ignore the tension then, but he is now and it makes her dizzy with how quick can filter out his emotions. Because one minute, Sakura isn’t sure if he wants to throw up the nearest wall or is content to hold her against his chest, but one thing is for sure, he has his hands all over her and she’s not complaining. Not in the _slightest._

Sakura covers her head with her hood, her cloak is made from water-repellent microfibers, a dark gray against the silver of the fog and she walks into the village slowly. She takes her time taking in her surroundings. To the natives of the village, it may look like she’s sight-seeing, but for the medical-nin, it’s her way of memorizing her escape routes.

According to the mission scroll, the supposed location of this Miyagi Toma is further into town. It’s a smaller brothel compared to the others littering randomly across the town-area. The seedy establishment sits in between a ramen shop and a laundromat. It’s awkward in terms of location, but she muses, that if she had an off the books shop, she would want it in a seemingly normal – unsuspected – position and judging by the butcher shop from across the road, she would think that this is plenty normal.

“A room,” Sakura murmurs to herself, she lowers her hood and walks over to a nearby inn. The innkeeper looks at the diamond on her forehead curiously, “A room please.”

“One bed?” the innkeeper asks slyly.

“Yes,” she smiles but doesn’t let her irritation show, “One night.”

“Very well,”

Sakura pays the innkeeper and looks over at the brothel with faux innocence. The innkeeper smiles at her and hands her the key, “Please try not to make too much noise with your work; we do have children loitering the halls.”

Sakura stares at her for a moment and then gives a curt nod.

 _She thought you were a prostitute?_ Minato raises a brow at that.

 _It’s the Yin seal,_ Sakura explains as they walk up the stairs, _Brothels mark their property, some with words and others with pictures._

 _I’ve never been a brothel before,_ he comments lightly.

 _What were your seductions missions like?_ she opens the door to her room and makes sure the door is locked securely. She tosses her pack on the bed and unclasps her cloak.

 _A rich target usually,_ Minato shrugs, _I never slept with them._

 _I didn’t ask,_ Sakura points out.

_You didn’t have to._

She bites her tongue and rummages in her bag.

 _There were more of just that, targets. Rich housewives of dangerous nin, sometimes they were escorts and sometimes they were women who were living as nin for hire,_ he goes on and his blue eyes glitter. He clarifies innocuously, _Sometimes they were men._

Sakura fumbles with her brush as she digests that piece of information. She licks her lips and forces herself not to picture that mental image that wants to brew in the back of her brain and blinks rapidly trying to stop her mind from malfunctioning. She clears her throat and grabs her cosmetic scroll, “Right,”

Sakura can’t look at him, only walks to the bathroom, her cheeks on fire, and mouth dry. She can feel Minato’s amusement like smoke around the edges of her thoughts, the heat of his words like to smoldering embers snapping against the skin of her cheek and she exhales shakily.

Minato may very well kill her at this rate.

She looks into the mirror intent on decorating her forehead with a more intricate jewel pattern that may up her worth – looking for work may come easier if she looks more _exotic_ – and she hates that word with a _passion._

When Sakura moves her hair back to start on her design, she notices it.

She notices a red mark, just underneath her jawline and she gapes at the sienna-colored flower. With a scowl painted on her face, she stomps outside the bathroom, glares at the blonde sitting on her bed, and points to the bruise on her throat, “What the _hell_ is this?”

Minato raises his brows at her irritation but then looks at the bitemark that stains the satin of her skin. He sits up abruptly and ocean eyes glint with salt as he walks towards her. He runs his thumb over the bruise, “I didn’t realize I can leave marks on you.”

Sakura frowns.

He grins and strokes the bitemark slowly, sensually.

“Don’t _smile_ at me,” she uses this as an excuse to be annoyed with him, it’s better to be angry than flustered, she thinks, “No wonder Naruto looked at me weird; he thinks I was practicing last night.”

Minato’s grin doesn’t disappear, it sharpens into a smirk, one with teeth and mischief. He dips his head closer and drawls out, “But isn’t that what you were doing?”

Sakura flushes despite herself and the way she averts her eyes instead of looking at him makes his heart _twist_ in his chest. He presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth and lingers. She shivers when his index finger taps at her throat, he draws a line from her neck down her chest and circles around her navel.

She stumbles back and growls with a hint of ire, “Don’t _think_ I don’t know when you’re trying to distract me.”

They may have ignored the tension and the _actions_ that transpired nearly two days ago, but that doesn’t mean Minato wants things to go back to the way there were. Sakura didn’t either, even if she never verbally acknowledged it. If the clenching of her fingers, the drag of nails at the sides of her hips weren’t a sign of bodily restraint and much-needed control, he didn’t know what was.

Minato’s lips curl at the edges when she stomps back into the bathroom a little annoyed, a whole lot flustered and just a touch of wanting; he can feel it at the back of his neck. The heat of her longing sends fissures of sparks down his spine and it simmers in his gut like a living thing.

He’s going to have pushing her, but knowing Sakura, she’s going to push him _right back_ and that’s only half the fun.

—

“Two things,” Sakura starts a little later in the afternoon. After a late lunch – Minato had forced her to shovel down a plate of gyoza and some stew – a little bit of information gathering and a .few innocent smiles, she had encountered enough data to confirm the source.

“Which are?” Minato, for some reason, didn’t go with Sakura into the brothel, instead, he stayed in the inn and watched from the window of the room.

Sakura was surprised, but she didn’t ask him to explain himself to her. She had given him a steady look, one of curiosity and confusion; he merely pecked her on the forehead and said he would be monitoring from a distance.

It didn’t occur to her, until much, _much_ later, that Minato _trusts_ her and that he _believes_ in her. He _knows_ that she can do this mission without his two Ryo, or in this case, his guidance. She wondered a bit darkly, if it was because he took out his pent-up _frustration_ on her – not that she was complaining in the _slightest_ – because even though he’s still shaken from the first Wave mission they went on together, he isn’t as anxious and edgy like he was before.

Minato is slightly possessive, a bit overly-dramatic and greedy with her affection, but she _likes_ it.

Sakura _likes_ that he wants to touch her all the time. She likes that he wants to tangle his fingers in her hair – his massages were probably her highlight from the last six months – she likes that he likes walking down the street with her hand in his, she likes when he cups her cheek and strokes her jawline.

Sakura likes that he _likes_ touching her.

She’s been affection-starved for years, she would never ask, never even _mention_ these thoughts, these desires that have been locked up in her head for years, but Minato can take one look at her and _know._

And it’s so _comforting_ to know that she has someone like that.

Sakura loves when he pins her with those ocean orbs of his and holds her hostage in the sea.

“The information that Sasuke gave me checks out,” Sakura says suddenly and shakes out those thoughts like a heavy blanket, “I was able to verify that Miyagi Toma _is_ recruiting nins to join the _Mizuchi_. I took out a fraction of their forces when they kept me locked in Nori.”

Minato’s eyes darken at that and his jaw flexes in anger at the reminder; she bites her tongue to keep her focus on the pillow beside him.

“He isn’t very subtle about it, so I have to believe that is a fairly green organization,” she muses thoughtfully, “The Akatsuki would’ve been cleaner in their moves, more secretive when it came to their campaigns and a bit professional when it came to doing business. This guy has no finesse, but he knows how to keep a secret.”

“How new?”

“Maybe a few months?” Sakura assumes and tucks a dark strand behind her ear, “They don’t seem to have a foundation, but they have a _lot_ and I mean a _lot_ of money. The cash they were offering for the girls at the brothel was preposterous, I can only imagine how much they’re giving the members to join their little club.”

“How can you tell they’re a few months into this organization?” Minato picks her brain with a furrow of his brows.

“For one, their work is sloppy,” she explains and leans against the footrest of her bed, “Running an organization is like running a business. There are transactions, rules and most importantly, things that you _don’t_ do or say. Miyagi had no idea what he was saying, but he was waving his money around like a banner and because he did that, no one really cared for what he was saying.”

“They sound like mercenaries,” blue eyes sharpen at that.

“The Mizuchi members who captured me were skilled; they had training, but they were ill-prepared to fight me, which is why they had to use the poison to slow me down,” Sakura looks thoughtful and fingers wrapped around her ankle. She looks at him and he circles the protruding bone with a lazy thumb.

“But how does anyone _not_ know who you are?” Minato frowns and presses a finger into the arch of her foot.

Her hips jerk in response and she shoots him a look, “I didn’t use nearly all of my skills during the war, my primary goal was to minimize casualties. Besides everyone tends to remember Naruto and Sasuke more than me.”

“Selective memory,” he presses his lips together, “I see. Mercenaries sound more and more plausible.”

“Whoever hired them or is leading this group has a _lot_ of capital,” Sakura points out a matter-of-factly, “They have enough money to wave around and get away with it.”

“There should be a money trail then,” Minato leans back against the headrest and thinks back to his time when he was in office, “There’s always a money trail and not many people have that type of cash since the war ended.”

“We could look at the financial records, but where should we start looking? A lot of people have stashes of cash, deposits, and artifacts hidden in plain sight. They have things that they could pawn off easily for an easy paycheck. The black market may be a good place to begin investigations, but the black market is a problem all in its own right,” she counters.

“Compiling a list of merchants, nobles, business owners, political leaders, anyone with _money_ and a _reputation,_ ” he argues, “Then we have a starting point. We can forget motive, for now, focus on the money and that will lead us to a person or group of people. It’s enough for a basis.”

“Money talks?” Sakura’s lips quirk upwards.

Minato leans down to brush his lips over hers and his eyes darken in moonlight, “Money _always_ talks.”

Her breath hitches in the pit of her throat and the blonde hears it, he doesn’t leave her wanting, not like last night. He presses a light kiss against her lips and she _hates_ that she can’t capture his mouth and take him in _deeper._

Minato sees what she wants, feels what she wants with just the brush of her eyelashes against his cheek and he hisses with clenched teeth; desire snapping like the fresh cracks of lightning and his self-control is a testament to his strength. His thumb then drops to the bitemark that she didn’t _heal_ or _cover-up,_ and murmurs against the side of her cheek, “I should leave another one.”

Sakura doesn’t need to ask him because she can hear him _think_ it: _so they’ll think twice before touching you._

The bitemarks are enough evidence to show that Sakura can get work. It’s not exactly like a hazing process, but it’s enough of a resume to get her into the brothel. She knows once she gets in, she needs to find Miyagi and take him into a private room. She’s lucky that she was able to find employment for tonight; Naruto is leaving the capital now and should be just in time for her shift.

“You okay?” Minato asks softly, he twists his fingers in the dark of her hair and grimaces at the color against his fingertips, “I miss the pink.”

Sakura rolls her eyes, “It’s _temporary._ ”

“It looks unnatural,”

“And pink is natural?” she laughs against his throat and his lips press against her temple.

“Nothing about this is natural,” he snorts and drops another kiss against her open mouth.

“You say that as you kiss me,” Sakura mumbles against his lips, and _fuck_ , she really does _hate_ that she can’t kiss him back.

“Frustrated?” Minato smirks and nips her bottom lip sharply—the sting causes her to ache.

She inhales sharply; irritated.

“You’ll pay for that,” Sakura scowls and gets up to shower.

Another _cold_ shower.

“Enjoy your shower!”

She tosses her slipper at him.

Sakura is tempted to ask if he wanted to join, but she rather not punish herself for her own _frustrations._ She mutters darkly underneath her breath as she strips and steps into the bathtub, “Asshole.”

His laughter is a tickle against the ears.

Ino had given her an outfit before she left. The blonde has more experience with seduction missions than she did, mostly because all prospect nin that enter T&I after extraction were proficient in persuasions and Ino’s just better equipped for them, psychologically. It’s a deep red silk chemise dress, with thin straps and it hits mid-thigh. It’s loose and flowy, but it’s _see-through_ in all the right places.

Minato would _hate_ it.

He would _hate_ that it’s not for him and that it’s not _him_ that gets to touch her.

Sakura grins.

When she walks out of the bathroom, she parts her hair down the middle and walks out of the with her high-heeled sandals. She doesn’t look at Minato, not yet, not until she grabs a thin obi from her pack and secures it around her waist. Because of the loose material, the obi serves as a prop to complete her silhouette and it secures her dress up.

When her obi is secure, she turns to look at Minato innocently.

Minato’s eyes sharpen heavy storm clouds and sapphire smoke. The muscle in his jaw tenses and it emphasizes the cut of his cheekbones with every twitch of pressure. He looks dangerous propped up against the window, his knee parallel to the side of his cheek, his muscles tensing in his black ANBU uniform – the same uniform he can’t seem to switch out of! It’s too _distracting_ – and tilts his head almost as if he’s in thought.

“What?” Sakura asks blandly and walks closer to the bed.

The light from the sunset washes over her chemise in soft velvet, the rose of her nipples are a golden glint against the embroidery of the chemise and her navel a new moon against the fabric.

Air leaves his teeth in a quiet hiss, then, he grabs her forearm abruptly and tugs her until she’s straddling his ghostly form.

“Minato,” she gasps and steadies herself on the mattress when her weight causes the bed to dip.

Minato runs a thumb over her nipple, the pod pouts and beads under his fingertip, “You enjoy pushing my buttons, don’t you?”

Sakura shivers at the feather-light caress, “No more than you do.”

“But I can touch you,” he points out and caresses the twin peak.

“Don’t remind me,” she replies breathlessly.

Minato takes two fingers and tugs down the front of her dress, just until her breasts spill over. Swiftly, he takes a turgid nipple into his mouth and sucks furiously. Sakura’s fingers dig into the sheets when his teeth pull at the tip, the smooth bud caresses the roof of his mouth and her elbows tremble as she tries to keep herself from falling over. He grazes the nipple with pearly white teeth and uses his tongue to chase away the sting.

“Minato,” she groans into his ear when he switches breasts, his fingers pulling and tugging on the abused nipple. When he pulls back to kiss her, his fingers twisting the pods harshly, rubbing and soothing the ache, she feels a familiar wet throbbing in between her hips and gasps, “Stop _cheating._ ”

“Not _cheating,_ ” Minato continues to roll the tips of her breasts and sucks another rose into her throat, “Reminding you.”

“Reminding me what?” Sakura snaps in frustration and whines when he pinches her.

“Reminding you that,” he runs a tongue up her throat to swallow her lips, pulling her lower lip until it tingles every time he brushes over it, “That we aren’t finished.”

“Finished with what?” her eyes gloss over in jade gems and wet forest.

Minato releases her nipples so abruptly that she can’t control her shudder, but then he presses a knee in between her thighs and _grinds._ He kisses her again, “With this. Us.”

Sakura throws her head back and kisses him again, humming when he moans softly. She pulls back, the ache in her hips a dull ache, she grimaces at the wet fabric and sits up, “We’re an _us_ now?”

Minato’s fingers fix tug the straps of her chemise back in place, humming in approval when her nipples are even more than obvious against the silk of her dress. Her breasts are swollen and tender. He slides a hand over her thigh and drops his head to her clavicle when he can feel her wet and needy over her underwear, “We were always an us.”

—

“How far away are you?” Sakura taps on her earpiece and the static crackles on the line.

It takes a moment and then Naruto answers, “Five minutes away,” a pause, “Are you in, Sakura-chan?”

“Leaving now, ETA two minutes,” she replies and tightens her strap on her robe, “My shift starts in five.”

“What’s the plan?”

“I go in and talk to Miyagi. I get him upstairs into a private room and then I’m going to poison him,” Sakura sighs casually and covers her ears with her hair.

“Poison?” she doesn’t have to see Naruto to know that he’s frowning.

“I figured that these members might be immune to their own poison, so I grabbed a vial from the one Sasori made years ago,” she explains and grabs her dainty purse, “I dabbled with it and made it a bit stronger.”

“How are you going to poison him? He might put up a fight?”

Sakura looks at her nails, they’re painted a bright scarlet red and rubs them gently, “Don’t worry about it Naruto.”

There’s another pause, longer this time and he sighs into the earpiece, “Yeah, okay, Sakura-chan. Stand-by in two.”

 _How are you feeling?_ Minato asks as she takes the back steps out of the inn.

 _Surprisingly, okay,_ Sakura answers almost brightly, _I just want to get this over with; I’m not too keen of this outfit._

 _I like it,_ he chuckles.

 _Of course, you do,_ she rolls her eyes and walks into the brothel.

The brothel, for one, has an open layout on the first floor. There is a second floor that has balconies and circles the first floor right down to the grand staircase. It smells of smoke, ash, and booze. Sakura almost wrinkles her nose at that but goes to her post on the left next to the bar. The windows are made from jade-glass, chakra swims in the crystal, glowing against the cherry oak pillars that hold up the sofa.

“Hana, right?” A woman with breasts bigger than Tsunade hands her a paper, “As a newbie, you get first pick. When you’re more seasoned, it don’t matter who your client is—they know you by taste. I think you understand what I mean, right?”

She nods demurely, “Of course, where should I put my things?”

“Space in between the makeup corner,” she flicks her fingers to the right, “Once your client is satisfied, we can rotate you to another section.”

Sakura nods again and goes to pack her stuff in the small, dingy corner. She inhales shakily and fixes her hair before walking out. She glances down at her paper and sees that Miyagi is the last person her list, so obviously, he must be the first.

 _If Miyagi was a regular, shouldn’t he have first pick?_ Minato frowns at that and ignores when a woman tosses her underwear right through him.

She coughs lightly, _Maybe he doesn’t care._

_That’s not reassuring._

_Let’s go find out, shall we?_ Sakura shifts her weight until it rests at her hips and allows her core to lead her. Redistributing her weight is a technique that Ino had taught her years ago, it allows her hips to follow her movement and her chest to be even more pronounced, but more importantly, it forces her to look more confident.

Miyagi Toma is a man with wild dark hair, a straight nose, and red eyes—red like the sharingan. He’s clean-shaven with a scar running from his eyebrow to his chin. He sits at the corner of the sofa, with a cup of sake in his hand. She straightens her shoulders and tilts her head, “Miyagi-san?”

Miyagi turns his head to look at her and his eyes drop to her chest, “You’re new, aren’t you?”

Sakura giggles stupidly and Minato takes a seat on the furthest side of the sofa with a scowl, “Yes,”

Miyagi offers her his hand and she takes it gingerly; she didn’t expect for him to tug her so quickly at that. She yelps and lands on the sofa with a gasp. He throws an arm behind her shoulders and says, “I know all the girls here.”

She closes her legs together and bats her lashes, “Do you come here often?”

“Every Friday,” he parts her legs and covers her thigh with a heavy palm, “Tell me, what’s your name?”

“Hana,” Sakura lies smoothly and pours him another cup of sake, “Kaa-san named me that because she thought I should be delicate.”

“With these little fingers?” Miyagi teases and tangles their fingers when he grabs the cup, “I think so. I think you need both hands to pick up something of size, hm?”

Minato snorts, _Delicate my ass._

She ignores him and goes on, “Most of the time, I was very small as a child.”

“Did you get into trouble because of it?” he drinks his sake quickly.

Sakura pours him another cup, “All the time.”

He makes a noise of interest and his thumb traces over her collarbone, “I used to get in trouble too. Kaa-san thought that if I went to school away I would straighten out.”

She tilts her head to the side and he cups a breast, “Did you?”

“Straighten out?” Miyagi huffs and sips his cup, “Of course not; I learned a trade.”

Sakura puts a hand on his thigh and rests it there. The weight feather-light and it sets Minato’s teeth on edge. “What kind of trade?”

“Curious?” he places his empty cup on the table.

“Most girls like a strong, powerful man,” she smiles sweetly, slides her hand up to his hips and fingers the waistband of his pants, “We like someone who knows what they’re doing.”

 _Sakura_ , Minato hisses and his fingers dig into the couch.

 _Hush,_ she parts her legs, _I almost have him._

Miyagi tugs her until Sakura is straddling his hips and she gasps at the suddenness. His hands slide up to cup her breasts again and he gives them a rough squeeze. There’s a short lick of anxiety that wiggles its way into the pit of her stomach and she grasps onto his shoulders as his thumbs run over her clothed nipples.

“I’m a contractor of some sort,” Miyagi tells her and shoves her down onto his groin, “The dangerous kind.”

_Confirmation._

The anxiety flickers up again and Minato growls low in his throat.

“Oh?” Sakura forces her breath to seem choked – she didn’t have to pretend – she curls around her anxiety and rests her hand at the back of his head, “How dangerous?”

He sucks a bruise onto her throat, “ _Very_ dangerous.”

She bites her lower lip and almost starts shaking, But when she takes a quick glance at Minato who is nearly _snarling_ at the scene in front of him and turns back to look at Miyagi—

—the picture of Miyagi melts into Minato. His dark hair brightens to gold and his eyes are _blue_ — _bluer than the oceans._ Sakura lets a small smile curl against her lips and Minato _can_ see _Sakura_ pretend that Miyagi is _him_ and it tightens the grip in his chest.

 _He_ sees the way she looks at him faux-Minato, the way she pretends that it’s him, sinking his fingers into his hair dropping a kiss to his cheek, sliding her tongue down his jaw and he _can_ see her drag her fingers down his chest.

The distress vanishes, because it is Minato who she is imagining touching her.

Sakura only wants Minato to touch her like this because Minato makes her feel so, so _safe._ She trusts him more than she will _ever_ trust anyone. With her head, her body, her mind, her heart—

—the edges of the memories fade when Miyagi groans, “You’re good for a new girl,”

“Would you like to move this upstairs, Miyagi-san?” she whispers into his ear.

Miyagi brings a hand to cup her bottom and shoves her chest into his face, “What’s wrong with here?”

“Mira-sama will get upset,” Sakura giggles stupidly and nips his ear, “I tend to make a mess.”

Minato's fingers dig into the sides of his thighs.

When Miyagi stumbles up the stairs with Hana behind him, he pushes her into the nearest, unoccupied room and Minato shoves himself in. Sakura doesn’t waste any time, her mouth swallows his lips so she can rip off his shirt and rake her fingers down his back until there is blood. The poison from her nail polish settles into his blood immediately. It paralyzes him, his voice, his fingers, his eyes and he would’ve crumpled to the floor, but the medical ninja catches him first.

Sakura sighs and puts him on the floor. She taps the earpiece against her ear on and whispers, “Naruto, ETA?”

“Five minutes?” he pauses through the static, “Are you done already?”

“Of course,” she scoffs, “Don’t forget my clothes. Twenty-three degrees north, the room next to the willow.”

“Your nail polish was dipped in poison,” Minato realizes abruptly and she looks over at him.

“Yes,” Sakura shrugs and wipes away his saliva with the back of her hand, “I couldn’t risk using chakra without raising suspicion and giving away my location to the other nin here.”

Sapphire orbs lazily take in the new bruise at the side of her neck and his mouth tightens in distaste. He walks over to her, casually stepping over Miyagi’s unconscious body to run his thumb over the mark that was not made by _him_ ; she heals it instinctively. Sakura knows that he knows that the only mouth she wants on her, is _him._

“I hate not being real,” Minato tells her again and it’s the same thought process all over again. He swipes over the newly-healed skin, “I hate not being able to help you.”

“You couldn’t help me even if you were real,” Sakura points out and crosses her arms underneath her chest, “This is a solo-mission for reason.”

“Watching men touch you right in _front_ of me, is a scenario that I don’t want to repeat,” Minato scowls but he understands despite himself and licks his lips, “Though, I have to say. That last part was very _interesting._ ”

A smile almost twitches on her lips, “Which part?”

He backs her up until she falls flat on the mattress and leans over her. She arches her back when he glides over her form, his lips pressing, wet, open-mouthed kisses over her scantily-clothed form. His tongue gliding over a perky, satin-covered nipple and then pecks her cheek chastely.

Minato runs a line down her throat and playfully slides a palm down the center of her torso; mimicking her earlier actions, and mumbles, “I have to say your imagination is quite a surprise, but not unwelcome.”

Sakura groans when Minato replaces the feeling Miyagi’s lips with his own, his teeth nipping against her pulse point sensually, the edges of the picture fade at the rims and he leaves another mark on her instead, “Do you enjoy marking me?”

“I never saw the appeal,” he brushes his lips over hers and then presses a softer kiss to her chin, “Until I met you.”

“Tired, Sakura-chan?” Naruto leaps onto the ledge of the window and swings his legs over the latch.

Minato rolls over and presses a kiss to her cheek.

“Exhausted,” she says roughly and grabs the bag he tosses at her.

—

“We’re going to let Ibiki handle him,” Kakashi tells her once she gives in her report and scratches the back of his head, “Good work you two. Naruto, did you get it?”

Naruto rolls his eyes and tosses him a sealing scroll. The Rokudaime catches the scroll with the deft fingers and unseals the package; a shrill giggle leaves his mouth when the smoke reveals half a dozen brightly-colored books.

“You sent Naruto to get _more_ porn?” Sakura asks with disbelief.

“Sakura-chan,” Kakashi chastises lightly, “This is _not_ porn, it’s erotic literature.”

Shikamaru slams his face into his desk.

“It’s porn,” she scoffs and inquires, “What happened to the other set he got you?”

He waves it off, “That was for Gai, he prefers archaic literature over the newer sets.”

Naruto gags, “I didn’t need to know sensei.”

Sakura rubs her face roughly and decides that she needs to eat a bucket of ice cream. She makes a move to leave, “Well if that’s all you need, I’m going to sleep.”

“I’m going to need a new draft of your speech, Sakura-chan,” Kakashi points out cheerily and points to his Kage hat sitting on the hook, “How did you feel about your last mission before becoming Hokage?”

“It feels,” she thinks about it and then looks over at Minato who quirks his lips upwards at her, “ _Liberating._ ”

Sakura leaves the Kage office with that and heads to her apartment. It’s evening now, the sunset colors her floor and windowpane in embers. She tosses her bag onto the floor and throws herself onto the couch. She stretches out her back and looks over at the stack of papers on her table. She breathes out in realization, “I’m going to be Hokage.”

Minato chuckles and takes a seat on the floor, “It’s finally hitting you, hm?”

“I don’t think it ever hit me,” she rolls green orbs and flips over to look at the ceiling. “I never wanted that job, it wasn’t something that I was looking for.”

“Kakashi could say the same,”

She rolls her eyes, “And Naruto is okay with it.”

Sakura sounds surprised, but Kakashi had a hand it that because over these last few months, Naruto has grown up exponentially, “Kakashi-sensei has really been working him hard and it’s _showing._ ”

“Naruto isn’t quite ready to become Hokage,” Minato agrees with Kakashi’s decision and looks at her wistfully, “He has quite a bit to learn, didn’t you say he was out of the village for some time?”

“He was,” she remembers those gap years very vaguely, “He missed the promotional exams, a lot of ranked missions, plus whatever specialty apprenticeships he needs for a sector and he hasn’t even led a genin team.”

“You haven’t either,” he says with a quirk of the brow.

“I have lead medical shinobi before,” Sakura points out and twists until she’s leaning into her elbow, “In teams and groups. Tsunade-shishou hasn’t led a genin team before either.”

“She did have apprentices,” Minato teases her lightly, “Maybe you should take up one.”

She huffs unamused, “I don’t know about that, Minato. I don’t even know how this is going to end.”

“It’s not going to end,” he states abruptly, seriously, and looks at her with ocean orbs, “It’s a beginning.”

“That’s very…” Sakura pauses, “Hopeful?”

“A little positive in light of the situation?” Minato breathes a chuckle, “I know, but you have three kages to guide you, I don’t know why you’re so bleak on the outlook.”

“I don’t want to mess up,” she whispers into the air.

He twists his head to face her and puts his chin on the cushion, inches from her. He replies gently, “It’s inevitable. The only thing you can do when you mess up, is contain the—”

“—fallout,” Sakura and Minato finish that sentence simultaneously. She exhales, “I’m starting to get tired of that word.”

Minato presses his lips to the corner of her mouth, “I know.”

“What do you remember about your coronation?” she asks suddenly and smooshes her cheek into a nearby pillow.

He hums in the back of his throat and leans against the couch, “I didn’t have a lot of fanfare, because it was a field promotion of some sort; straight out of the war. People were scared and the casualties of our fallen shinobi were being carved into stone. My speech was quick and to the point.”

Sakura considers that and repeats, “Straight and to the point?”

“You can’t do that,” Minato sees her line of thinking and matches her for one, “We are _technically_ in a time of peace, so the need for fanfare is desired.”

She rolls her eyes and reminds him, “No one _knows_ about the coronation; Kakashi-sensei just announced that he was going to give a _very important_ speech.”

“Kakashi loves surprises,” he snorts and brings his knees to his chest, “He also isn’t going to explain _why_ he’s stepping down.”

“We can’t allow him to do that anyway,” Sakura remarks dryly and nestles in her sofa, “Not until this entire Mizuchi situation is dealt with.”

“Yes,” Minato agrees, “That was risky, but it’s understandable and you _still_ have to write your speech.”

“Stop reminding me,” she whines and flips over to face the headrest of her couch, “You still haven’t told me about the rest of your coronation.”

He tugs a faded black strand and explains, “I had to soothe fears of the citizens. Peace and stability was their main concern. I reassured them that their goals were my goals. Stabilizing the economy while implanting foreign policy was another hurdle,” he pauses to take a sit on the couch and maneuvers her until her legs rest over his lap, “I said: _In a time of peace, we must erase our preconceptions, our prejudice and our resentment of each other, in order to move forward. We are the strongest, together. We can be better, together. We move in solidarity, together._ ”

Sakura looks at him in both awe and wonder. He can feel the tendrils of admiration and pride wrap around him in silk ribbons. He almost flushes at her attention but settles for a small smile. She clears her throat when she realizes that she was _staring,_ “That wasn’t bad.”

Minato rolls starlight orbs and squeezes her ankle. He retorts back sarcastically, “Not _bad,_ huh?”

She chuckles and jerks her left foot when a thumb presses into her sole, “It was good. I don’t think I would’ve thought of something like that.”

“Honesty is like a window,” he declares softly, “Transparency is needed because not all Kages are loved, but they are respected.”

“I know,” Sakura groans and grabs her hair roughly, “I hate giving speeches, I get so awkward.”

Minato raises a brow, “Seriously? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you act awkward.”

“I don’t like being the center of attention,” she reveals bluntly and jade orbs glints underneath the sunset, “You know this.”

“Hokage are the center of attention,” he huffs and sapphire orbs burn when he pins her in place, “Get used to it.”

Sakura hears the words he doesn’t say, however.

_You are my center of attention._

The night passes quickly, the sun doesn’t hesitate to rise and the birds don’t pause to chirp. Time moves without anyone’s approval, but Minato doesn’t sleep, not for long at least. He’s not sure if he really needs it, instead, he lays next to Sakura and watches her sleep curled up next to his arm.

With his fingers intertwined with hers, he watches the moonlight filter over her skin and presses his lips to her knuckles. He falls asleep after witching hour, he wonders if his hopes, his dreams and his fire will be shared with her—not passed on, because they are maybe, one and the same.

Sakura finishes writing her speech just after sunrise, with a warm cup of tea in her hand and her back resting against Minato’s chest. She leaves two blank lines in between two sentences and continues the rest of her writing. He presses a kiss behind her ear and she sends a draft with a slug summon to Kakashi.

“I missed this,” Minato teases her after her shower, tugging on a pink strand.

She trades in her standard red shinobi outfit for her black silk kimono dress, the one she wore to _Nightshade_. She had Ino get it tailored into a shirt, about a week ago, one that is a nod to the late Mizukage. An off-the-shoulder silk kimono top that pushed her breasts up with a thin red obi, just enough to give her some cleavage and with long sleeves. The shirt parts right about of her navel and the pieces of cloth rests at her hips. She keeps her standard black shinobi pants and shoves them into her boots.

“It’s almost like the ANBU uniform,” Minato comments lightly, a finger tracing her bare collarbone and then up her throat. His eyes darken at the color of her lips, “But it’s not.”

Sakura almost smirks, “Of course not. Mei-sama was quite…remarkable.”

He presses a kiss to the base of her throat, his lips linger and he pulls back, “You know that’s _not_ what I meant.”

She does smirk this time and grabs her Hokage haori. She inhales sharply at it, but Minato takes the haori from her and motions for her to turn around. When he slips on the sleeveless haori, Sakura opens her eyes and looks into the mirror, “Kakashi-sensei is going to give me his hat.”

“Tradition,” Minato reminds her and smoothens out her collar, “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Sakura smiles tremulously at him and he kisses her on the mouth, softly, chastely.

When they use the hiraishin to appear at the Kage balcony, Sakura is hidden behind the pillar and Shikamaru stands next to her, “Nervous?”

“Can you tell?” Sakura inhales sharply and Minato presses his fingers at the back of her neck to ease her nerves.

“You’re going to do fine,” Shikamaru pats her on her back and hands her, her speech, “Kakashi-sensei wanted to know what the two black lines were for.”

“Words from the soul,” Sakura says immediately, “Something honest, real. Something in the moment.”

Minato squeezes her again.

The Nara clan heir nods slow and looks over to Kakashi who gives his speech with much dryness despite his animated gestures, “I tried to get him to tone down his speech, but no avail. How troublesome.”

“He wouldn’t be Kakashi-sensei if he didn’t go out with a bang,” Sakura huffs and tightens her grip on the scroll.

 _Remember to breathe,_ Minato whispers into her hair.

 _I’ll die if I don’t,_ Sakura bites back and almost squeals when he nips her ear.

“You’re up, Sakura,” Shikamaru squeezes her shoulder after a certain motion Kakashi gives him and gives her a half-smile, “Don’t trip.”

She whacks him on the side of his shoulder and he winces.

 _Right behind you,_ Minato presses his lips to her temple, Sakura leaves her position from behind the pillar and walks into the fray.

“—please welcome your Nanadaime, Haruno Sakura!”


	17. meteor

“I always thought the Seventh would be Naruto,” Sakura said suddenly, she stares at the Hokage mountain, the builders had finished on her head and she exhales sharply, “I never thought I’d be in this position.”

Minato doesn’t reply, he sits on her desk – one that was once his – and watches her look out the window.

She turns to look at him.

Sakura was a vision in her Hokage robes; she doesn’t wear the haori often, not like he had, but when she does, she looks even more powerful and it makes his finger tingle with anticipation. Anticipation for what? He doesn’t know, but he can’t help that stupid smile the curls at the edges of his lips.

“It’s been four months, Sakura,” Minato points out and crosses his legs, “I think you should be at least comfortable with all of this.”

“My face is on the _mountain,_ ” Sakura emphasizes with a hysterical laugh, but it blends into something more natural as she takes a seat in her chair, “I don’t know if I’ll be able to get over it.”

Sakura lets her hair fall at the mid-point of her back, anything more than her waist bothers her more than she would like to admit and tilts her head to consider the gold of his hair. It’s not mandatory as the Hokage to wear her headband anymore, her hair is happy for the extra room, but sometimes she wonders.

“Welcome to the Kage club,” Minato winks at her cheerfully.

Sakura is startled into laughter and grabs her pot of tea from her side-table, “How exclusive.”

“Of course,”

He still remembers the day of her coronation. When she walked out to the balcony, Kakashi had ruffled her hair and gently placed her Kage hat on her head. Then he left her to face the crowd, who looked at her in shock. She still remembered Ino’s agape expression and Lee’s very loud sobbing.

Sakura had started her speech, with wide eyes, but grew more confident as the seconds passed and soon she got to the part where—

 _“_ — _someone wise once told me, in a time of peace, we must erase our preconceptions, our prejudice and our resentment of each other, in order to move forward. We are the strongest, together. We can be better, together. We move in solidarity, together. Honesty is like a window and you have to open the window to let the sunlight in. For us, in the Village hidden in the Leaves, we thrive under the sun, as your Hokage, I can promise you that in times of peril and unrest, the citizens who reside in the Land of Fire, will be my first priority. Always.”_

Once Sakura tossed her hat into the crowd and walked into her new office, Minato had kissed her until her knees nearly gave out.

“How was lunch?” Sakura asks Shikamaru when he walked back into the office with a yawn.

“Ugh,” Shikamaru groans and takes a seat at his desk, “Troublesome, the Elders just ambushed from the gyoza place.”

She grimaces, “What do they want?”

“They want you to drop the new agreement with Lightning.”

“Not on their life,” Sakura snorts and pours another cup of tea, “I finally found a solution that can help Mist with their food crisis. Withholding trade of their root vegetables can be considered a war crime.”

Shikamaru pauses at that, “How?”

She raises a brow, “I can _make_ it sound like a war crime.”

 _Starvation over overproduction sounds devious,_ Minato huffs.

_It works, doesn’t it?_

“Did Ino get back to you about the new medical program?”

“No,” Sakura sighs and grabs a notebook from a drawer, “Medical ninjutsu isn’t a joke, one slip-up and you can kill your patient. Progress is slow, but it’s happening. Ino needs to recruit more clan nin to up our forces. We have enough on offense.”

“I told you putting Ino on the council was a good idea,” Shikamaru drawls out smugly.

“I’m not disagreeing with you, Shika,” she snorts and goes over some notes, “I wish she had more tact though.”

“Accidentally slapping Hinata’s father wasn’t the best move, I know,” he scowls and grabs a file from his desk, “I made sure Tsunade-sama gave her a good scolding; I think her ears are still ringing.”

“Good,” Sakura remarks absently and looks over at some records, “And Kakashi-sensei?”

“Nose-deep in Jiraiya-sama’s books,”

She sighs and leans back in her chair.

Minato looks at her curiously.

 _He’s supposed to be going to physical therapy,_ Sakura reminds him.

_Is he not?_

_Knowing Kakashi, he would’ve skipped it altogether,_ she rolls her eyes and glances at her notes, _I’m worried he’ll sink into depression._

 _He’s not his father, Sakura,_ Minato chides her gently and takes a seat next to her, _We can visit him later._

 _He’s been avoiding me,_ Sakura scowls.

_He thinks you’re going to drag him on the council._

_Then he’s right to hide,_ she grabs a rice cracker from her stash of snacks at the bottom of her desk, _He’s going on the council whether he likes it or not. It’s time to retire some of these Elders._

“Sak—Hokage-sama,” Shikamaru clears his throat and that breaks her out of her thoughts, “Tsunade-sama wanted to relay a message.”

“What?” she looks over at him as he reads over the scroll that one of the genins handed him.

“Miyagi Toma is awake,”

Sakura stands up immediately and the nin who arrived in her office not even ten seconds ago, come to attention. She looks over at Shikamaru who had stiffened as soon as he said the name. She looks over at the rest of her nin and nods, “At ease. Shikamaru, get Kakashi, he started this mission and he’s going to finish it. Kotetsu, I want Ibiki-san to have a room available and have Tsunade-sama on standby at T&I. Genma, get me Sasuke.”

“What do you need the Uchiha for?” Shikamaru demands and finishes dismissing the rest of the nin.

“Penance,” Sakura replies tersely.

 _Is it wise to put Sasuke in the room while Ibiki does the interrogation?_ Minato challenges her when she locks the door to the office and her teammate appears next to her.

 _Sasuke is much better suited for interrogation than Naruto,_ she feeds him a non-sequitur and motions for him to walk with her, _Ibiki’s methods are by the book and Sasuke is in a league of his own. Using Sasuke might be more beneficial, even unprecedented._

“Miyagi is awake,” Sakura says abruptly and they turn right down the hall, “Tsunade-sama is sending him to T&I, I thought you would want a crack at him first.”

Sasuke’s sharingan flickers to red and then back to obsidian, “Of course.”

“Of course, you must follow Ibiki-san’s rules,” she lies to him and gives him a look, “I don’t have jurisdiction to what happens to you in T&I.”

 _Tightening the leash will make him act out more,_ he shakes his head.

 _Only if I don’t lead,_ Sakura quips, _Since my coronation he’s been fixated on putting the Mizuchi to rest, that and he feels guilty._

 _He should,_ Minato relays with more teeth than necessary.

 _He doesn’t know how to talk to me either,_ she continues to fill in the spaces between silence, _Naruto says that he’s trying to be friendly, but it’s so weird. Sasuke has never been my friend._

“Who will be in the room?” Sasuke asks when they leave the towers.

“Ibiki-san and you,” Sakura replies and crosses her hands behind her hips, “Tsunade-sama, Kakashi-sensei and I will observe from the glass. You will wait need to be debriefed; Shikamaru will instruct you from there.”

T&I is more of a basement than a secret building. It’s the underbelly of Konoha, hidden beneath the Hokage mountain with a tunnel that runs directly underneath the Jounin HQ on the west side of Konoha. The front is that it’s a part of Tactics or Konoha’s Intelligence Division, which is true, partly, however, T&I have a separate code of conduct, along with rules and regulations.

In other words, they don’t play by the book.

Pushing chakra into the stone panel on the south side of the mountain, the door clicks, opens and latches back.

“Hokage-sama,” Ibiki greets her almost dryly at the door and then nods at the Uchiha. “Tsunade-sama deemed Miyagi strong enough to withstand interrogation, but weak enough to succumb underneath torture.”

“Miyagi did lose a bit of muscle and chakra while recovering,” Sakura muses more to herself and looks over at him, “And the restraints?”

“Chakra-live and iron-based,” he answers automatically, “Should do no more than weaken him. He’s already weak from his coma, but this will take him to the point of exhaustion.”

“Doable,” she gives a curt nod and looks over at her teammate, “Sasuke has the most information on him and has dealt with his previous members, once you’ve finished the standard procedure, let him have a turn and if worse comes to worst; Sasuke can use his sharingan.”

“We’ve never implemented dojutsu into standard interrogations,” Ibiki pauses at that for a moment, “We try to keep the practices uniform, to avoid favoritism.”

“I’m well aware, Ibiki-san, however,” Sakura’s eyes sharpen, “This isn’t a standard interrogation. Miyagi attempted to assassinate a Hokage; his sentence won’t be taken lightly. One way or another, we need information out of him—as soon as possible.”

It’s been four months since the world has last heard of the _Mizuchi_ , for some, it seemed like a break. A rest from the chaos, the disaster, the Mist nin were wary and they had a right to be _wary._ The military was being rebuilt, slowly, the Rain refugees were coming in like the slow ebbing of a wave and Chojuro was more than grateful for their body count.

Body count, is such a morbid thought.

Minato had explained to her, that it didn’t matter how _skilled_ the Ame refugees were, it was the number of nin that were going to enroll in the military. The quality didn’t matter, the quantity did. Shinobi can be trained and re-trained, but lives were numbered. A bleak outlook, but realistic nonetheless.

To Sakura, the stillness of the _Mizuchi_ spelled trouble.

“The calm before the storm,” Tsunade told her when she asked for a status report on Miyagi a week later.

It’s been four months now and nothing.

“If I knew that Miyagi had a pre-existing condition I wouldn’t have used that poison,” Sakura had said sarcastically to Kakashi when he told her that Miyagi hasn’t woken up, even though he was administrated the antidote. He was listed as coma patient and put in a highly-secured room with ANBU monitoring him.

Time, she thought, had been running out.

Sakura needs to make up for lost time by extracting information from Miyagi, quickly. Because if the _Mizuchi_ is taking this long to retaliate or even formulate a response, that could only mean that they’re planning something—something _big._

“Understood,” Ibiki realizes the severity of the situation, but fails to realize the context. There are bigger plays being put in place, Sakura has to stay one step ahead and Minato is right there with her, picking up the pieces.

“I will be in the viewpoint,” Sakura tells Sasuke and dismiss Ibiki, “You withhold from opening your mouth until Ibiki gives you the okay. You observe in the corner and stay in the shadows; do _not_ open your mouth.”

Sasuke bristles at that, “I _know,_ Sakura.”

“This is your fault,” she presses in the knife, not because she wants to but she won’t have Sasuke’s temper and his lack of foresight ruin her plans. She’s been put in this position as King and if she’s going to be here for a foreseen amount of time, she’s going to do her _best_ to make sure that the citizens of Konoha are taken care of and pave the road for Naruto, “Don’t fuck up by scaring our only asset.”

Sakura leaves him outside of the door and walks into the observatory. She takes a seat next to Kakashi and leans into the back of her chair.

“Using the Uchiha to interrogate a terrorist that he should’ve gotten rid of is both devious and brilliant,” Tsunade praises her with a smirk, “You’ve done well, my apprentice.”

She gives her master a cheeky grin.

“Don’t you mean, Hokage-sama, Tsunade-sama?” Kakashi sniffs lightly and pats his student lightly.

“There is technically four Hokages in this room,” Shikamaru points out lightly and then drops into the seat in front of Sakura, “Titles tend to get tricky here.”

Sakura rolls her eyes and Minato takes a seat to her left, “Did you happen to find the thing I asked for, Tsunade-sama?”

“What thing?” Kakashi asks.

“You’ve been avoiding me sensei,” Sakura gets to him first and narrows her eyes, “You’re going to be put on the council whether you like it or not.”

Minato chuckles when Kakashi visibly wilts.

“And,” she emphasizes and continues as if Kakashi didn’t just pout, “I was talking about the scrolls regarding reanimation—the one going back to Nidaime.”

“Jii-chan’s scrolls aren’t exactly legible,” Tsunade wrinkles her nose and crosses her arms underneath her chest, “However, Shikamaru and I were able to dig up a small bit of information.”

Shikamaru takes it from there, “Whatever the First and the Second came up with, were mostly theories. Basic philosophical knowledge and theorems.”

“Daichi’s paradigm,”

“That was one of them, yes,” Tsunade nods at that, “Chakra is energy. A moving, breathing, living thing that is in all objects. We may dismiss its existence when it comes to civilians or plants for example, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t have chakra. We say civilians don’t have chakra because it’s not important enough to note of or be significant. Chakra cannot die nor does it rest.”

Shikamaru continues for her, “The chakra can sometimes resemble a spirit, which is a massive ball of chakra. A mix of yang and yin energy combined with lightning.”

“Lightning?” Sakura frowns.

“The body is made of four things—let’s speak in metaphors, okay,” Shikamaru rubs his brow, “Fire, water, earth and air. Lightning can be seen as that _thing_ —the soul.”

“I thought chakra was the soul?” Kakashi muses.

“Technically,” he says with hesitation, “Chakra is manifested from the soul. The theory is that the soul is somewhat like lightning, but it’s contained.”

“Wouldn’t that mean plants have a soul?” Sakura furrows her brows.

Shikamaru groans, “Sakura, I’m trying to explain the best way I can.”

She holds her hands up in surrender.

“Fire is the heat inside the body, water is the blood in our veins, the earth is our skin, our organs—the physical space of our body and air is the air we breathe through our lungs,” Shikamaru explains, “That is what makes a body.”

“Which is how the Shodaime came up with the reanimation jutsu,” Sakura connects the dots here and looks over at Minato, who is strangely quiet.

“The lightning part is actually a theory because no one can truly create a person unless they’re made a natural way, or we would have man-made humans…I’m confusing myself, but you get what I mean,” he scowls at himself; he knows he’s better articulating, but it’s the _theory_ itself that is complicated.

“So chakra is manifested from the soul,” Tsunade repeats thoughtfully.

“Yes,” Shikamaru nods, “The Yondaime is bound to you by Yin energy, right?”

“Yes,”

“You could try to unbind him by using Yang energy,” Kakashi says lightly.

“That’s exactly where I was going with this Kakashi-sensei,” he sighs.

“But how?” Sakura replies with disbelief, “How do you use Yang energy to unbound him, where would his soul even go?”

“I don’t know,” Shikamaru sounds frustrated, “The only thing anchoring him to this world is you, Sakura. That and his chakra is intertwined with yours. I theorize that if you somehow ended up using all of your chakra and ended up using his, he would have nothing to anchor himself too.”

“I don’t think I can use all of my chakra like that, furthermore, I could overtax my chakra system,” Sakura explains.

“Because Sakura is a second-generation shinobi, her DNA and chakra reserves aren’t advanced enough to be able to untangle all of that yin and yang energy; it will cripple her.”

“Like me,” Kakashi smiles.

Sakura glares at him darkly, “Kakashi—”

“—oh, look,” he sounds bland and cheery at the same time, “The interrogation is starting.”

“It’s just a pretext, Kakashi,” Tsunade waves it off and begins, “I do have a theory as to why Minato is becoming more corporal.”

Minato tenses beside her and she so desperately wants to weave her fingers through his.

“Which is?” Sakura asks.

“His chakra is leaking,” she reveals and mulls it over, “The answer might just be simple. If Minato’s chakra is leaking, then that means his Yin energy is converting into Yang. While his chakra is intertwined with yours, the demon chakra, or whatever was left can start to leak out because well, you don’t _have_ a demon inside of you.”

“I converted all of that chakra,” she points out.

“Your reserves are deep, Sakura,” Tsunade continues kindly, “But you still come from a civilian clan, your body simply cannot handle all that extra energy without having an output. If Minato still has some unused chakra that you haven’t converted, it’s the reason he’s probably becoming more corporal. The chakra that isn’t used as Yin energy is used as Yang energy.”

“But the seals against my eyes…” Sakura trails off.

“Are probably from his original chakra,” the Godaime considers that, “If it is the demon chakra that’s leaking, it’s already converting into Yang energy because you simply can’t convert it—it’s still Minato’s chakra because his DNA was in it, which is the only way he can touch things.”

“So if Minato’s DNA wasn’t in the demon chakra?” Sakura says thoughtfully, “It would’ve burned my chakra system. Kurama’s chakra burnt my arm, who knows what would’ve happened if I put that chakra in my body.”

 _I also come from civilian clan, Sakura,_ Minato decides to speak up after absorbing that information. His mind considered the possible paths this could’ve taken, _It didn’t burn me and I don’t think it would’ve burned you._

 _Yes, but it has your DNA in it,_ she reminds him.

 _But how?_ he asks.

“Minato wants to know how his DNA would attach itself to the demon chakra,” Sakura asks for him.

“Your wife was Kushina,” Tsunade raises a brow, “Did you create this seal before or after Naruto was conceived?”

Sakura stiffens at the question, the implications, the possibilities and throws up her mental wall before they could escape the confines of her mind. Minato looks like he had been slapped, he grits his teeth and glowers at Sakura’s sudden need for privacy.

 _I have no secrets from you, Sakura,_ Minato grounds out and grabs her hand, _Don’t hide from me, please._

She swallows thickly and inhales deeply, _Sorry, I just—sorry._

Minato can feel how hard Sakura is trying to distract herself from her own train of thought, the will to fight stereotypes and prejudice even as her own self-doubts and consciousness is nothing short of admirable. He presses her hand to his cheek and says, _After. It was a fail-safe, remember? To keep the Kyuubi under lock and key._

“After. It was a fail-safe, to keep Kurama from escaping the seal,” Sakura voices his thoughts.

“His DNA was already in the chakra by time of conception,” Tsunade explains professionally, “The chakra wouldn’t have bothered him because he was already accustom to it.”

“And his background? Coming from a civilian clan has nothing to do with this then?”

Shikamaru looks a taken back by that, “It could mean explain why he wasn’t able to put more chakra than what was necessary in the scroll or why his normal chakra was in the scroll instead of more demon chakra.”

 _The conversion,_ Sakura muses thoughtfully, _The equation needed more steps._

 _Perhaps,_ he says softly.

“When Shikamaru translated the rest of the Whirlpool dialect, from the original scroll,” Tsunade hesitates to reveal this slip of information, “Kushina tweaked the equation.”

Minato stiffens, _What do you mean tweak?_

“What do you mean, Tsunade-shishou?”

“In the event that something happens to Kushina or the Kyuubi, whether her she dies or doesn’t survive the extraction to put the demon in the next vessel,” she continues, “Minato would live to see the next day; in short, Kushina made sure you lived even if she couldn’t.”

Kakashi’s eyes widen.

“Sasuke is starting his interrogation,” Kakashi breaks up her thoughts and forces her to focus on the one-way window in front of her.

—

“That was useless,” Sakura scowls into her hand and gets up from her chair to stand in the hallway, “He basically told us what we already know.”

“He sounds like he had a seal,” Shikamaru frowns and leans against the wall, “Sort of like the one Sai had when he was in ROOT.”

“Is it possible? I mean Sasuke already used his sharingan on him and he couldn’t come up with anything,” she looks at the door that’s still closed shut.

Kakashi follows Tsunade out of the room and points out, “Mental blocks or black spaces are a thing; they’re used mostly for hunter nin.”

“Black space?” the Nara has never heard that term before.

“It’s sort of like genjutsu. It’s a failsafe in case a hunter-nin or assassin is kidnapped and torture for information—it creates gaps in the memory to prevent exposure of information and leaks,” Sakura explains automatically, “But if that were true, there would have to be a bigger power in play.”

“It could be a country or a village,” Tsunade tosses in her thoughts, “Someone who knows the force and how to run a military.”

 _At least we know where to start looking,_ Minato looks down at her, _We’re looking for a bigger organization, someone with money and connections._

“He has holes,” Ibiki slams the door shut, “Memory lapses and faded perceptions.”

“It’s a jutsu,” Sasuke states frustrated, “A-rank at most, if he’s like this, then other members must be as well.”

“He’s a foot soldier. He’s not very important,” Sakura murmurs to herself and Sasuke stares at her, “It wouldn’t matter if he’s used as collateral damage, his purpose is to collect nin for money—mercenaries. We could use him,” she leans against the wall and thinks, “Send him back to the hospital, his chakra system must be taxed from the standard techniques. I want daily reports on his health.”

Tsunade nods and moves to walk into the room.

“Ibiki-san, see if you can get me a list of mercenaries. Any shinobi, rogue, or blacklisted. Anyone who has defected in the last ten years. I also want the psych evaluations from them, if we don’t have any, create profiles for them,” Sakura gives them their orders and turns to look at Kakashi, “And Kakashi-sensei, I want a copy of _all_ your mission reports; don’t look at me like that. I _know_ you have them. Dismissed.”

Sakura inhales slowly as they use shunshin to disappear and Kakashi watches her curiously, “You’re looking for someone.”

“I’m looking for a lot of people,” she quirks a brow and walks with him out of T&I, “When you were in ANBU, did you come across anyone particularly interesting?”

“ _How_ interesting?”

“So very interesting, that you would think that your target was still _alive,_ ” Sakura stops in his tracks at that small bit of information.

“I’ve killed a lot of people, Sakura,” Kakashi tells her seriously.

“So have I,” she says bluntly, “But if there is a possibility, a small sliver of chance, that one of your targets got away from you and somehow has decided to take you out—I’m going to need that information. Immediately.”

“I’ll see what I can find you,” he pats her head and smiles, “See, I told you, you’d make a great Hokage.”

Sakura watches Kakashi walk away, with his hands behind his head and whistles into the next street.

 _He’s right, you know,_ Minato brushes her shoulder, _You make a great Hokage._

She rolls her eyes, _I’m not terrible, I know, but great is a stretch._

 _You didn’t have any opposition from the people,_ he reminds her.

 _Not yet,_ Sakura smiles ruefully, _I can still mess up._

 _I won’t let that happen,_ Minato pauses at that, _I’ll try to not let that happen._

 _Oh? Nice save,_ she huffs and walks back to the Kage towers.

 _I do my best,_ he smiles sweetly at that and the curve of his lips falters when he notices that the laugh doesn’t reach her eyes.

The Hokage Towers, Sakura assumes, feels like a second home to the other Hokages, because if she’s not falling asleep at her desk, she’s burying her nose in so much litigation she’s sure that she’ll go blind before Sasuke. In the end, it comes down to the weight of the world and how she can smooth out the path for Naruto because this is a temporary position; she believes.

“Hokage-sama,” Moegi meets her right in front of her door and hands her a letter, “Your correspondence has arrived.”

“From?” she quirks a brow and opens the door back to her office.

“Wave,” she falters for a moment, “It has a seal, I assume it’s from the Mizukage.”

Sakura nods and takes a seat behind her desk, “Thank you Moegi-chan.”

The pink-haired nin unravels her scroll as Moegi leaves her office and presses chakra into the keyholder:

_No response from the Water Daimyo. Your assistance is greatly appreciated, Hokage-sama._

_—Chojuro_

“No response, hm?” Sakura leans back into her chair and thinks on that, “Either the Daimyo is pissed that Mist keeps wasting his money or he doesn’t want to speak to the Mizukage.”

Minato doesn’t answer her, he stare out the window with his back against the ledge. She frowns but doesn’t say anything otherwise, she pulls out Mist’s financial records that her ANBU headhunters brought her earlier that day and goes through the list. An hour passes by with her marking down the deposits that Konoha has given to them on loan in exchange for metal and iron.

When it reaches an hour before sunset, Sakura snaps, “Alright, what is it?”

Minato startles, “What?”

“You’ve been quiet,” she hesitates and leans in her chair, “Quieter than usual.”

He shakes his head and sits in the chair across from her desk, “It’s nothing.”

“Don’t give me that,” Sakura rolls her eyes and purses her lips, “Don’t hide from me, Minato.”

Minato gives her an unamused look, his lips twitch at the edges but she can’t read the look in his eyes. His emotions are a bundle of things, threads of irritation, confusion, apprehension and little bit of resigned acceptance. He starts, “I was just thinking…”

“I couldn’t hear you thinking,” she points out.

“You were looking at the accounting numbers, I doubt that you would hear my thoughts if you were that focused,” he counters and sighs, “I was wondering if I would ever have a real body again?”

Sakura blinks and sighs, “I see. You could always,” she pauses and smiles tightly, “Crossover, if you want. I think if I used up all my chakra like Tsunade-sama said—”

“No,” Minato’s answers definitively and narrows his sapphire orbs at her.

“You wouldn’t be connected to me, yes,” she presses and looks back at her reports, “But you also wouldn’t be trapped.”

“Do you think I’m trapped?” he asks suddenly and slams his hand on her desk in defiance.

“We went over this in Mist,” Sakura huffs and looks at him with sharp emerald eyes, “You either crossover or—”

“—or I live,” Minato says softly.

“Yes,” she whispers and her eyes shimmer with flecks of sunlight, “But how?”

“That’s what I was thinking,” he reveals and looks over at the sheets, “I want to _live_. I’ve been robbed of my life and my family. I don’t want it to happen again.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Sakura inhales suddenly and looks everywhere but at him, “If I can have a spirit trailing after me, I’m sure we can get you a body,” she grimaces, “That sounded better in my head.”

Minato laughs, “You’re not very good at reassuring people, are you?”

“I’ve lost many social skills post-war,” she replies dryly and runs a hand through her hair, “Most of my colleagues are of higher-rank; they don’t need the reassurance.”

“Are you trying to say you outrank me, Hokage-sama?” he quirks a brow at that.

Sakura chuckles, “I mean, _technically_ —”

Minato kisses her on her open mouth.

A little while later, when Shikamaru comes back from T&I with a bunch of files in his arms and sits at his desk with a pout, Sakura thinks about pottery. She would like to try pottery, molding the clay with her hands, baking it, and then painting it. She wonders if it’s therapeutic, Minato shoots her a strange look at the random thought but then glances at her ink-stained hands with understanding.

She looks over at the fiscal reports regarding Suna.

 _There is one thing we haven’t spoken about,_ Sakura declares suddenly and peeks at Shikamaru who is looking over his war games map.

 _Which is?_ Minato frowns at that.

She looks at him for a moment, hesitating in between breaths and exhales, _Kushina._

He stills at that, _What about her?_

Sakura almost groans, _You do realize you’re married, right?_

Minato presses his lips together and corrects, _Technically, I’m a widow._

She almost winces. Not her smoothest sentence starter or transition into a different topic, but she can try and manage it, at least. She looks down at her papers and tries to sort out her thoughts.

_Honesty is like a window._

Sakura inhales slow, _I don’t know what we’re doing, we haven’t exactly spoken about it and that’s fine. We don’t have to discuss what’s happening, but Kushina was your wife and I don’t want to overstep—I guess._

Minato looks thoughtful and she _hates_ that she can’t trip him up, just _once,_ she would like to see someone tug the rug from under his feet.

 _I loved Kushina. She was my wife and we had a child together,_ he says and doesn’t stray away from her gaze, _But it’s been a long time, Sakura._

 _I know,_ Sakura says softly, _I don’t want to come in between that._

 _You’re not,_ Minato says firmly, _I want you._

She swallows thickly at that.

“Another letter, Hokage-sama,” Moegi breaks through her thoughts like a wet blanket, she peeks in from the door and places the scroll on her desk.

“It’s Monday,” Sakura states dryly and accepts the scroll, “Apparently all mail is being sent today.”

“Better late than never,” she giggles and walks back out the door.

 _Who is it from this time?_ Minato asks with a heavy breath and leans in closer to her.

Sakura’s eyes sharpen over Kumo’s seal and unravels it quickly. She skims through the proposal and pauses right at the end; her fingers tighten on the scroll, “Shikamaru, how many citizens have dual-citizenship in Konoha?”

Shikamaru startles at the sound of her voice, “Off the top of my head, maybe a few hundred?”

 _What did the Raikage propose?_ Minato furrows his brows.

 _A swap,_ she breathes.

“Is this correspondence about the medical program?” Shikamaru inquires shortly and shuffles his papers to the left, “Ino was adamant on including foreign nin on our force.”

“Ino also likes to talk up to powerful people to do her bidding for her,” Sakura rolls her eyes and looks at the scroll in disbelief, “They want me to exchange Naruto for Shī.”

“The Raikage’s right-hand?” he demands incredulously.

“Of all the people to swap, Darui wants to give me Shī in exchange for Naruto—the scale is obviously unbalanced,” she huffs.

“What do they even want from Naruto?” Shikamaru furrows his brows.

“I don’t know,” Sakura scowls, “I hate to admit it, but we do need Shī. His skill when it comes to medical ninjutsu is nothing to laugh at and he can set the basic foundation for our medical programs. We have to globalize our medical programs and my hands are tied—Ino doesn’t have the leadership abilities to manage something as massive as that, plus she has her genin team to worry about.”

“And Shī does?” he asks dubiously.

“You saw what he could do during the war, Shikamaru,” she fixes him a look.

“But is he good as you?” Shikamaru challenges.

“No one is good as Sakura-chan,” Naruto snorts and appears from the window. He carries another box of scrolls and drops them on Shikamaru’s desk. “But what are we talking about?”

“Do you not know what a door is?” Sakura asks sarcastically.

“Of course,” he grins cheekily, “I like the window.”

“You’re picking up on Kakashi-sensei’s bad habits it seems,” she crosses her arms underneath her chest.

“You’re lucky I’m not reading porn in front of you,” Naruto winks.

Shikamaru snorts in disbelief from the corner of his desk.

Sakura is torn between amused and exasperated, but then she crosses her legs and shoots him a look that has Kotetsu squirming in the back, “Do you read porn?”

He breathes a nervous chuckle and Minato’s fingers clasp around her knee. He clears his throat and asks, “What were you talking about, before?”

She measures him with her gaze and decides to tell him, “Lightning wants to do a nin exchange.”

“An…exchange?”

“I asked for the Raikage’s thoughts on a global medical program. Obviously Konoha would run it. We would have the teachers set up home base in the embassies before raising enough funds to have an international center in each country,” Sakura begins, “Unfortunately, we need to have a curriculum, better resources, and advanced medical shinobi to implement lessons. We only have a handful of skilled medical ninja, since Tsunade-shishou left Konoha all those years ago, the hospital took a sharp decline in producing medical ninja, civilians make up sixty percent of the hospital staff.”

“Who do they want to exchange?”

“You in exchange for Shī,” she rubs her hands together, “Do you have any idea what they want you for?”

Naruto shrugs, “Darui did say he wanted to set up more schools, a lot of kids were orphaned during the war.”

Sakura shoulders droop; of _course,_ that’s why Darui wants Naruto.

Naruto knows better than anyone what it’s like to be an orphan, a hated orphan at that and he knows that the system was rigged against him from the beginning. If Darui wants Naruto to help manage and vet the entire education system, it’s not like she can say _no._ She can, but that would do nothing but damage relations with Kumo, put a drop in the economy and halt all development for the global medical project.

But if she _does_ to the swap, Naruto would need dual citizenship in Lightning, according to the scroll’s proposal, the timing would be indefinite. It does leave a bit of wiggle room, but at the same time, it’s a gamble letting Naruto out of the village.

Not because he’s probably the strongest shinobi in the village, but because he holds all the tailed demons inside of him—should the Mizuchi get their hands on him, he could be turned into a weapon.

The question is: _does she let him go?_

“I have to think about this,” Sakura rubs her face roughly, “It’s a gamble.”

“How is it a gamble? I help with the schools and you get Shī—the blonde guy, right? To help with the medical program,” Naruto says with obvious impatience.

“Naruto, the _Mizuchi_ is still a threat,” she reminds him with a hint of teeth and a slight hiss, “I can’t let you out of the village knowing that something could happen to you. You saw what they did to Kakashi-sensei.”

“So redirect the proposal,” he says simply.

Sakura raises a brow, “How?”

“Tell them that you reserve the right to call me back to Konoha duties at any time—whatever you need me for, Sakura-chan. You can also add that because I’m technically your right-hand, that it would be of equal exchange and that their not part of the agreement with Wave, you know the one with hunting down these members, they can’t tell you no,” Naruto says thoughtfully.

 _And_ Naruto can follow that money trail, she remembers after a moment, but does she trust him to remain discreet?

Sakura sighs, “Because it’s both an internal and external crisis,” she muses and looks over at those scrolls, “Kakashi-sensei has done wonders with you Naruto.”

He scowls, “Sakura-chan,”

“I’m proud of you, you idiot,” she rolls her eyes and tosses him the correspondence scroll, “Go. Rewrite the proposal and make your case. Shikamaru will give it a once over and I’ll send it out tonight.”

Naruto catches the scroll and beams, “You got it, Hokage-sama.”

Sakura shivers, “Don’t call me that, ugh.”

He laughs.

—

“This better be good,” Sakura grumbles and swipes her eyes roughly. She stumbles out of bed and walks over to the door, her ANBU guards hand her a letter. She glares at them tiredly.

“From Kumo, Hokage-sama,”

She accepts the letter and slams the door shut. Minato is up and rubs his eyes much gentler than she did. She sits on the bed and glances over at her clock.

_Seven A.M._

“I knew I should’ve gone to bed earlier,” Sakura scowls and unravels the scroll.

Minato rests his chin over her shoulder and presses a hand to her inner thigh.

_Expect me._

_—Shī_

“What kind of letter is that?” Minato scoffs in disbelief and falls back onto the sheets, “The sheer arrogance of that man is ridiculous.”

“Shī is nothing but confident,” she sighs and tosses the letter on her nightstand, “He has good reason to be.”

“He’s no you,” he points out and pulls the sheets over her legs.

“He’s not,” Sakura agrees, “But he has my seal approval.”

Minato tugs her closer to him and presses a kiss to the crown of her head, “If you didn’t need him, I would’ve told you to not even consider it.”

“I know,” she snorts and presses herself closer into the pillow, “He knows to hold down the fort and I can’t be there for him to do that. I would have Shizune work with Ino, but she’s taking over my hospital and I can’t afford to cut corners.”

“I know,” he rests his head against hers.

“Shī loves a dramatic entrance,” Sakura murmurs as sleep overtakes her, “If anything, unpredictability seems to be my only concern, regarding him at least.”

Minato ponders that as Sakura falls asleep in his arms. When she falls asleep, they go their place, the island, most of the time, they’re in the house on the water, other times they're in the meadow, but most of these times, they just sleep.

Minato doesn’t fall back asleep, however, he’s content to watch Sakura sleep right in front of him. They don’t drift back to that plane of consciousness and it’s enough, for now.

At nine in the morning, Sakura walks slow to the Hokage Towers, she yawns into her hand and rolls her shoulders, “I knew I shouldn’t have pulled that all-nighter.”

“I don’t think trade negotiations could wait,” Minato huffs a breath and tugs on a pink strand, “Tea, unfortunately, is a necessity.”

“This is coming from a man that used to make matcha cookies,”

“My kaa-chan used to make those, not me,” he corrects and takes her hand with his.

“You could if we had the recipe,” she grumbles and almost walks into the door.

“I’m not sure if you’re adorable or thoughtless when you’re sleepy,” Minato steadies her and helps her up the stairs, “It’s concerning.”

“That I’m adorable or empty-headed?” Sakura questions.

“Both,”

“Clearly, I’m both,” Sakura huffs and smoothens out her kimono top. The rough actions cause her top to expose a bit more cleavage than she would have liked, but she doesn’t bother fixing it—fussy as it is, it would be even more irritating to adjust when she’s so close to her office.

Shikamaru slams his hand on her office door and looks slightly out of breath, “Sak—Hokage-sama, the package from Lightning has arrived.”

“Package?” Sakura’s brain is missing all the cues and she’s not sure how to feel about that. She scratches the side of her neck, “What package?”

“The one that Naruto wrote to,” he says slowly, deliberately.

She stares at him for a moment with a blank expression before her eyes sharpen, “Where?”

“Inside,” he exhales, “He refused to leave the office and I couldn’t hold him on contempt because technically he’s an ambassador.”

Sakura rolls her eyes and groans, “Of all the times—! Okay, I’ll deal with it. Have Ino-pig here on standby.”

Shikamaru frowns, “Why does Ino need to be on standby?”

“In case I rupture his lungs when I decide to kick him out the window,” she mutters darkly and slaps open the door. She smiles sweetly, sharply, “Shī, you have exactly five seconds to get out of my chair before I break every bone in your body.”

A muffled curse escapes the Nara clan’s heir’s mouth.

“Technically,” Shī moves to clarify and swivels in the seat across from her chair, “I’m in the guest chair, you know the one you use to sentence people.”

Sakura smiles tightly, “I would’ve liked an excuse to kick you into the Hokage Mountain, but I guess today is not that day.”

“You’re a lot meaner than I remember, Sakura,” Shī raises his brows as she walks over to her desk and drops into the chair.

“That’s Hokage-sama to you, Shī,” Shikamaru corrects with a bit of bite from his desk.

“It’s okay Shika,” she rolls her eyes and fixes him a look, “We haven’t even written up the formal proposal. Does the Raikage know you’re here?”

“Of course he does,” he sniffs.

 _He wants you to know he knows that Shī is here, it’s subtle aggression,_ Minato tells her with a frown.

“And he does know that we can’t let Naruto go until all the formal paperwork has been filed?” Sakura quirks a brow.

“Kumo has had the paperwork done weeks ago,” Shī replies and it’s a subtle jab, “The Raikage doesn’t want to waste any more time.”

 _That does not sound like Darui,_ Sakura points out, _Darui would rather talk things out. He’s more considerate than the rest of the other Kages._

 _We’re going to have to confirm that the Raikage knows that Shī is here, if his story holds true,_ Minato interjects.

“Darui knows that even though we have a…personal relationship,” she clears her throat and avoids the eyes of the rest of the nin in the room. Her eyes are steely and her mouth firm, “He wouldn’t use it as a gambling chip or even a strategy to ensure that Konoha seals the deal. I expect an honest answer, Shī.”

Shī looks at her in surprise, coal orbs widen at that and he knows that Sakura has _changed._ This isn’t the same pink-haired medic he went to war with, fought with, kissed with—she’s sharper, quicker to cut with her tongue than her fingers and it makes him question his own words.

“Raikage-sama feels like Konoha could use the assistance since the Mizuchi’s arrival,” Shī reveals quietly, “He heard about the water poisoning crisis and was going to send reinforcements when you found the antidote.”

Sakura’s eyes cloud over with memories and she shakes her head, “And this was what? A peace offering?”

“Incentive,” he replies and crosses his arms, “Naruto isn’t needed right away, send him on your time, but make use of me, Hokage-sama.”

“I’m here!” Ino’s voice carries even as she opens the door and Shikamaru takes a quick glance at her; seems like he couldn’t decipher her sarcasm.

That, or he thought Sakura was serious.

She might be, he thinks.

 _Something isn’t sitting right with this picture,_ Minato scowls and tenses from behind her, _There’s something off about this._

 _I know, I can’t put my finger on it, but it’s something,_ Sakura agrees with his declaration.

“I have to confirm with the Raikage first,” she offers instead and interlocks her fingers together, “In the meantime, I’ll have Kotetsu show you where you will be accommodated. Ino, who is the third-in-charge at the general hospital will brief you later,” she doesn’t wait for him to stand up, “Kotetsu, show Shī where he’ll be residing at.”

Shī gives her one last look, one full of resignation and something that not even Minato, could define, before leaving with Kotetsu through the door.

“How troublesome,” Shikamaru speaks first, “He gets through Konoha checkpoint without having the Raikage gives us a heads up.”

“He left the village without the Raikage’s approval?” Ino’s eyebrows shoot upwards.

“He says he had the Raikage’s approval, but we haven’t settled on a proposal,” Sakura explains and looks over at Minato, “It was premature.”

“Wait,” the Yamanaka clan head puts a hand on her hip, “Shī left the village before the proposal came to a close and told the Raikage that he was leaving—with or without his approval? Just like that?”

“Seems like it,” Shikamaru watches her warily, “He’ll be running the international medical program, you’ll be serving under him—since you have a genin team to teach.”

Ino snorts, “Shī didn’t _just_ come to lead the medical program, Shikamaru.”

Sakura frowns, “What do you mean? What else would he be here for?”

Ino looks at her best friend in disbelief and then huffs a dry laugh, “For you.”

Minato stiffens in his seat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Join the Multi-Sakura server!  
> https://discord.gg/vyxyc2J


	18. neptune

Just before noon, Sakura’s schedule is as follows:

 _Pitch_.

_Investment._

_Correspondence._

_Repeat._

Her first audience is a civilian, actually. He is nervous when he walks into the room, he carries a briefcase, one with a silver buckle and leather strap. He takes his seat in front of Sakura and greets her politely, “Hello Hokage-sama, thank you for taking the time to see me today.”

Sakura looks at him kindly, “Thank you for visiting me today. What is it that I can help you with?”

Coming from a civilian family, she has earned the respect of both the civilians and shinobi in the village. Kakashi had told her that having that dual admiration and respect is very rare for a leader because not everyone will take to their new Kage.

“My name is Hikaru. I would like to present to you my new invention. As you know technology has been booming since the end of the war. I would like to be a part of this movement and contribute to our society,” he opens his briefcase to pull out what looks like a machine, “I’m sure you’ve used earpieces and this is sort of like that, but it’s a little more complicated. I call it the telephone.”

It’s a twenty-minute presentation, one with cue cards, a few graphs, a statistical overview, and a demonstration using both the Hokage and Shikamaru.

Sakura whistles low. She’s impressed and that’s a point for the civilian, “I really do _love_ technology and I think this is a great idea. I think this will really change how we communicate and the fact that you can make it affordable is not only innovative but it is very, _very_ clever.”

Hikaru flushes, “Thank you, Hokage-sama.”

“I will be glad to vouch for you; if you want to pitch this to other countries or globalize it or even just use it for our military forces. We can do that too if you want. I truly believe that this is a novel creation. I also think that people will adapt to this new technology very easily,” Sakura praises him and crosses her arms, “You make the Leaf country very proud.”

“T-Thank you, again, Hokage-sama,” he nods rapidly and grins.

“The only problem we have with your invention is that we cannot fund it. We can’t invest in this—the government, to clarify, can’t. Not just because we are drastically low in funds but because you created this outside of the military. We don’t have jurisdiction to infringe upon your business plan or your product because you consider yourself what? An independent contractor?”

“That is correct,” he nods again, but slowly this time.

“Konoha cannot invest in your invention,” Sakura repeats, then looks over at Hikaru who practically has dark clouds ringing around his form and Shikamaru who shakes his head—warning her not to get involved. She brings her hand underneath his chin to think and exhales, “But I do know someone who can.”

Hikaru perks up at that.

“Tell me, have you ever heard of Mikan Kisuke?”

After Hikaru left the Hokage Towers, Shikamaru had given her an earful—she filters his rant obviously, only the words: _upper handed_ , _diabolical,_ and _insane_ roll around in her head like an Academy school ball.

“You don’t even know if the Daimyo would bother investing in this telephone,” Shikamaru scowls, he’s significantly less red than before, but that doesn’t really matter once he bangs his head on the desk.

“I lied when I said the government can’t fund Hikaru,” Sakura points out the obvious, and Minato quirks a brow at that, “We can, but I don’t think we should spend that much money on it. Innovation can get very expensive and we have other things to worry about. Food for one and a better healthcare system.”

“I know that you didn’t want to fund Hikaru,” the Nara clan states blankly, “But what I couldn’t figure out was why? Why did you give him the run around? Did you already go over the financial records?”

“Yesterday,” she groans and presses her hands to her eyelids, “Then I compared them to Mist’s records. We are progressing, very, very _slowly._ The linear model and the Sora graphs show that we, compared to other countries, Kumo for one, are on the lower end of the spectrum. Konoha footed the bill for the last war. We can’t afford to invest in technology. We already did with the computer and that might take a year or two to come into production before we can even _rake_ in capital.”

“So you knew that we, the military can’t invest in this technology,” Shikamaru interrogates and raises his brows, “But you still gave him an audience.”

“I did,” Sakura confesses, “Because Hikaru did say that this technology can be used for _both_ civilians and nins. Since we are all _citizens_ of the Leaf, pitching his idea to the Daimyo is worth a shot.”

 _Two birds, one stone,_ Minato hums and scratches the back of her neck, _That’s good work, Sakura._

She almost smiles, “Write a letter to the Daimyo,” she presses her hand up against her cheek, “Tell him that I’ve come across something very _interesting_ and thought that you might find it _interesting_ too.”

Minato snorts, _Interesting? That’s what you’re going with?_

 _You know Mikan-sama, he likes to play his game and I have to toss him some bait,_ she explains, _Besides, you were the one that told me to make some allies._

 _And you said you bought loyalty,_ he counters.

Sakura wrinkles her nose, _I guess it’s time to cash it in._

 _I think the metaphor is: put it to use,_ Minato says dryly and Shikamaru sends out the messenger bird.

 _Please. I’m sleep-deprived and annoyed,_ she glares at him and almost sulks, _give me a break._

 _You had ten hours of sleep,_ his lips curl upwards cheekily.

 _Someone distracted me at least six of those ten hours,_ Sakura glowers.

Minato runs a finger over her ear and murmurs, _I didn’t hear any complaints._

She flushes and looks back at her files, flustered. Ino looks at her strangely from her desk and proceeds to look over her medical files. Sakura has been acting bizarrely this past week, the Yamanaka clan heir thinks it because of Shī and the fact that Sakura doesn’t exactly know how to deal with him and so her best friend does what she does best, and that is _overthink._

Ino didn’t really want to be put on the council, but she relented under Sakura’s piercing jade stare.

She understood that Sakura needs support on the council and she would do anything to get rid of those uptight corpses. But Ino, even while training her genin team, has to consider the hospital and the medical program that Sakura wants done. With Shizune running Sakura’s project, Ino has to help fill in the shoes and with Shī leading the program – which lessened her burden a great deal – Ino could play councilmen, teach her students and help set up the international medical program.

Still, the Yamanaka clan heir will find the time to help her best friend have a social life—a sex life to be more accurate.

Ino sighs wistfully; Sakura’s been working herself into the ground since she’s become Hokage. She can’t imagine all the stress, issues, and projects that her best friend was working on—all at the same time. All that tension and stress in Sakura needs to be worked out by strong, capable hands and there is no one more capable than Shī.

At least, that’s what she thinks.

“Ino,” Sakura breaks her train of thought, “I need you to give Shī the rundown on what we’re redoing, what we’re scrapping, and what we’re getting rid of all together in the next hospital summit. It’s tomorrow, as you know, but I need him ready because this meeting could take an entire week.”

Ino raises a brow, “We’re doing the entire regulation and policy vet tomorrow?”

“It’s the biggest issue, right now,” she replies and crosses her arms, “Once we decide what we _are_ implementing and what we’re _not_ it should be smooth sailing from there.”

“Tsunade-sama has a binder with all of that in the main hospital…”

Sakura nods, “Make three copies, one for him, one for you, and leave the other for safe-keeping.”

“Yes, yes Hokage-sama,” Ino salutes and takes her to leave from her office.

“She’s…awfully chipper,” Sakura looks at the closed door for a moment and then turns to Shikamaru in confusion, “Did something happen?”

“I don’t want to know,” he brushes it off.

“Some teammate,” she huffs.

“Do you want your teammates all in your business?” Shikamaru challenges with a knowing gleam.

Minato laughs.

Sakura growls, “I hate all of you.”

—

Shikamaru’s messenger bird taps the window with its beak twice, Sakura opens the latch of the glass and the bird flies over to the Nara’s desk. He comments after a moment, “That was fast.”

 _That doesn’t sound good,_ Minato tilts his head.

 _Or he already has an answer,_ Sakura tries to remain positive as the Nara unravels the scroll.

Shikamaru’s eyebrows rise fractionally, “It’s an invitation for a late lunch. Mikan-sama would like to talk more about this business deal in private and welcomes you into the comfort of his own home.”

Sakura stares at him, “Is there a precedent for this?”

 _I don’t think a Hokage has ever been invited the Daimyo’s home,_ Minato remains in shock and glances at the seal on the scroll, _The Daimyo always enters the shinobi village, never the other way around._

 _Why?_ she asks.

 _Simply because we are nin and the Daimyo feels more comfortable—safe in his own home. To invite dangerous and destructive shinobi into the arms of a civilian home spells trouble,_ he answers, _No one wants to invite a threat in a space they feel safe._

 _The Daimyo would rather walk knowingly into the open fire than invite it into his home,_ Sakura muses.

“I don’t think so,” even Shikamaru seems stumped.

 _What is Mikan-sama trying to do?_ she questions herself with a frown, _I can’t think of a play._

 _I don’t think this is a play,_ Minato offers and his thigh brushes hers from underneath the desk, _He might not have any ulterior motives._

 _Everyone has ulterior motives, Minato,_ Sakura reminds him, _Should I accept?_

 _I don’t think you have a choice,_ he frowns and leans back into his chair, _No one has ever declined a request made by the Daimyo, moreover, I don’t think you can decline a domestic invitation._

“Accept the invitation,” Sakura confirms and rubs her temples, “Send for the guards, the entire entourage and Kakashi.”

Shikamaru nods and stands up, “Should I send for Hikaru?”

“No,” she shakes her head, “Something about this request is strange, I can’t afford to let a civilian enter the palace.”

“And Kakashi-sensei?” he points out, but not unkindly.

Sakura still flinches and clears her throat, “Kakashi-sensei is acquainted with Mikan-sama, if anyone can spot something amiss, it would be him,” she pauses, “And get Sasuke.”

Shikamaru’s lips twist at the name, but he follows orders and it’s enough. She has to make it enough.

The thing with Sasuke is, that they’re still on shaky ground and she doesn’t know how to fix it. It’s slightly ironic, as a healer, she knows how to identify the problem, the tools she needs, and how to fix the problem, but Sakura doesn’t know how to stop the bleeding with this one.

She has to _try_ and tomorrow Naruto leaves for Kumo.

It’s just a _lot,_ right now.

Ino comes bursting in the door to her office, effectively startling the few nin who were filing paperwork in the corner and holds out a bag that holds what looks like a _dress._ It takes her a few moments – bless Shikamaru for that big brain of his – when she realizes that it’s a kimono.

“You can’t meet the Daimyo in shinobi clothing,” Ino tells her and shoves her into a nearby empty room. A conference room from the numerous chairs and states, “You’re going to the palace as a political leader, not a ninja.”

 _Ino does know the proper etiquette_ , Minato agrees and grins when she scowls at him.

 _Ino-pig just likes to play dress up!_ Sakura retorts and yelps when Ino tugs off her boots, “Ino! I can undress!”

“We don’t have that much time!” she scowls and slips off her pants, “I wish Mikan-sama gave me like a day’s notice! Do you know how long it takes to put on a kimono?”

“Of course _not,_ ” she hisses sarcastically and grabs the long strands of her pink hair “I have no _idea_ what it’s like to put on a kimono _._ ”

“I have to do your hair too since you have miraculously decided to grow it out,” she rolls baby blue eyes and unzips the bag as Sakura takes off her blouse.

“I do remember someone telling me that _if no one can touch your hair then you can keep it in any style you want_ ,” Sakura grins when Ino’s eyes widen at that and she laughs, “Did you forget that you’re the one that told me that, Ino-pig?”

“I just gave myself more work,” Ino facepalms but she smiles when Sakura laughs again, “Alright forehead, take off the bindings.”

Sakura stares at her, “What?”

“Bindings. Off,” she emphasizes patiently and quirks a platinum blond eyebrow up, “You’re going to look weird with the bindings on because of the seams and you’re going to _melt_ underneath all these layers.”

She frowns, _Turn around Minato._

He snorts, _My mouth has been on your breasts more times than I can count._

Sakura flushes at his audacity and frowns, _That doesn’t mean I can’t feel you_ staring _at me._

Minato walks to her closer, with Ino staring at her with a scowl, and Sakura eyes him suspiciously.

He tucks two fingers over the top of her bindings, where the seam sits and tugs it downwards. The snap of her bindings echoes in the room softly, the bandages slide off her breasts in a whisper, and his finger slides over the soft petal of her nipples. Goosebumps prickle over her skin and she has to swallow the gasp when his thumb slides over the peaked tip; it sends the faintest of sparks up against the satin of her skin.

He smirks wickedly and takes a seat next to the kimono resting on the table.

“Alright,” Ino motions to her shoulders and wonders at the sudden loosening of her bindings, “Arms up.”

Sakura swallows and pins him with her emerald orbs as Ino helps her into her kimono. Minato is not fazed from her glare; he’s used to it. He’ll meet her match for match, and isn’t afraid of the repercussions.

Ino is careful when she tucks in Sakura’s obi, the white is a compliment to the heaven-blue of her kimono, the kimono that is decorated with silver, deep blue tsubaki flowers and ocean ripples. She smoothens out her collar and runs a comb through pink silk.

“Don’t tie all of it up,” Sakura instructs her suddenly and shifts in her kimono, “I’ll get a headache.”

“Appearances are everything, Sakura,” Ino frowns and combs the ends, “Shinobi arm themselves with kunai and weapons before going into the battle. This is a different type of battle and you need to look like power itself.”

“Do the top-bun. Half up and half down,” she concedes, “Sort of like the regional hairstyles the ronin wear, you can use the hairpins and a flower if you want.”

Ino nods, “What color flower do you want?”

 _Red,_ Minato answers for her and shoves a knee underneath his chin, _It will look nice with your hair._

 _I’m wearing blue,_ Sakura comments lightly.

 _Do you trust me?_ he sounds amused.

_You know I do._

Minato looks at her softly, _Red._

“Red,” she responds quietly and winces when a strand is tugged to tightly.

“Red, hm?” Ino murmurs more to herself and puts the hairpins in place, “I think a peony would look nice. Once we get you in the palanquin, I’ll run and grab one from the store.”

When Ino finishes putting the hairpins in place and does a light dusting of makeup. Sakura grabs her hands and says sincerely, “Thank you, Ino.”

The blonde pauses at that and smiles, “Please Forehead, it’s my job to make sure you’re dressed to kill.”

Sakura snorts and the bells in her hair twinkle at the slight movement, “I just want to tell you that I appreciate it—everything that you do for me.”

Ino gives her a quick hug, “That’s what best friends are for, Sakura.”

“Okay,” Sakura drops her arms, “I’m starting to melt; you can let go now.”

She snorts, helps Sakura slip into her sandals, and fixes the fine hair at the sides of her ears, “You’re starting to sound like Shikamaru.”

“Shika is in a league of his own,” she chuckles and Ino grabs her clothes, “Do you think that I don’t know he’s talking to Temari.”

Ino gasps dramatically and loops her arms with hers as they walk out of the room, “Tell me everything.”

It’s a subtle way to make sure Sakura doesn’t dirty her kimono or fall or something like that, but the Hokage thinks that it’s because Ino can’t squeeze the life out of her best friend without accidentally suffocating her.

That and Minato tangles his fingers with her free hand.

Sakura hides a smile when he presses her lips to the side of her knuckles. When they walk through the village path, downtown square, she gets slightly self-conscious when the people see their Hokage sporting an expensive, traditional, and very heavy kimono. They whisper among themselves and Minato tightens his hand on hers.

“—she looks like a hime!” one of the kids whispers loudly to their parents and Sakura raises her sleeve to hide her blush.

 _This is so embarrassing,_ Sakura huddles closer to Ino.

 _What?_ Minato frowns, _You’re their Hokage. You’re beautiful, intelligent, kind, and strong. What’s embarrassing about that?_

 _I can hear them say it,_ she whines and her cheeks color even more.

He laughs and presses his lips underneath her ear, _I had no idea you were so shy._

 _Shut up,_ Sakura hisses even as the mortification runs up the back of her neck.

He presses another kiss to the side of her cheek, _You would rather face the Mizuchi head-on with no backup than take compliments. Is that it?_

 _Yes,_ she answers tersely, heavily, and sighs at her own complicated mind.

Minato laughs and presses his lips against her neck in disbelief, _Don’t ever change, Sakura._

Sakura has to pout at that when they pass the flower shop, Ino runs into her parent’s store. Next to the shop, there’s a small space in between buildings, this is where he leads her and covers her with his ghostly form. Minato decides that it was time to press her up against the wall and kiss her breathless.

He cups her cheeks and kisses her slowly.

Sakura can feel herself melt into him when he does this. This is slower, less intense than his other kisses, but more intimate. His fingers wrap around the back of her neck and he angles her mouth to press closer her nose against his cheek. The blonde doesn’t risk ruining her hair, even though his fingers urge him to do so and presses the base of his fingertips just where her scalp ends.

She whimpers into his mouth and Minato smiles against her teeth. He trails his lips against the corner of her lip, pressing delicate kisses against her chin and starts an unhurried trek down her jawline. Emerald orbs are wet with salt, eyelashes heavy with desire, and she so desperately wants to sink her fingers into his back.

Sakura inhales sharply when Minato runs a tongue down the column of her throat. Her kimono prevents him from exploring his territory, so he nips her there and slides a thumb over her cheekbone, “Don’t make a mess.”

“I want to,” he chuckles against her throat and presses his lips against the corner of her mouth, “You want me too.”

Sakura can’t help the smile that twitches against her lips at the double entendre and he kisses her again, slow, full of heat and longing.

“Ino is coming,” Minato whispers against her mouth and pulls back.

She blinks hazy emerald eyes slowly.

“Sakura?” Ino calls from the entryway to the alley, “What are you doing in there?”

Sakura stares at her before point upwards, “The sun.”

She cocks her hand on her hips as the Hokage walks over to her slowly, “You could’ve come into the store, you know.”

“It’s Friday, the shops are always busy on Friday,” Sakura argues and doesn’t move when Ino pins the flower into her bun, “Plus, if I go in there, everyone will ask questions and ask _Sakura-sama would you like some flowers? We have lilies! Sakura-sama thank you for allowing us civilians to intern with the nin in the towers!_ I would never get out of there alive.”

“I’m _Sakura_ and I’m so _famous,_ ” Ino mocks her playfully and fixes her hair again, “C’mon, Shikamaru is probably going to have an aneurysm if you’re late.”

“I am _not_ Kakashi-sensei,” she grimaces and loops her arm with Ino’s, “Besides, Kakashi-sensei might end up late, anyway.”

“Not for the Daimyo,” the blonde says quirkily and whispers conspiringly, “I heard he has a thing for one of the Daimyo’s daughters.”

Sakura’s eyebrows raise at that, “ _Really?”_

“Mikan-sama got married very young, I believe that his daughter, the eldest is maybe five years older than us?” Ino tries to remember, “I remember Anko-senpai telling me a few years ago.”

“ _Interesting,_ ” Sakura murmurs and when she sees the palanquin waiting for her at the village gates. She blanches, “This amount of fanfare is ridiculous.”

“You’re their Hokage, Sakura,” Ino frowns at her, whacks her across the shoulder – Minato frowns at that – and looks at her dead in the eye, “Get used to it. You didn’t work yourself into the ground all these years to catch up to your teammates, to say you are worth less than what you worked for is an insult to you and your work ethic. I don’t have a loser for a best friend.”

Sakura looks at her for a moment, “I hate when you’re right, pig.”

“I’m _always_ right,”

She scoffs loudly and waves her hand so her shinobi can stand down, “Is Kakashi-sensei here?”

“In here,” Kakashi peeks his head from the curtain of the palanquin to grin, “Don’t you look pretty, Sakura-hime.”

Sakura rolls her eyes, “Shikamaru?”

Shikamaru shoves a hand from underneath the curtain, but isn’t ridiculous enough to peek through the curtain, “Here.”

“Sasuke?” she questions the sky, actually.

“Running a perimeter,” The Nara replies for the absent Uchiha and wiggles his fingers against the curtains, “C’mon, we’re going to be late.”

“I’m not Kakashi-sensei,” she mumbles underneath her breath and turns to face Ino, “I’ll see you for dinner, pig.”

“I heard that!”

Kakashi is ignored, as usual.

“Are you going to double with me and Sai?” Ino winks and gives her a hug.

Sakura snorts, “With who?”

She whispers in her ear, “Don’t think I didn’t see those bitemarks down your chest and under your ear, forehead.”

Green orbs widen and she stiffens at that.

Ino pulls back and leaps into the trees, “See you tonight, Forehead!”

“That’s Hokage-sama to you, Yamanaka!” Sakura shouts from the ground and scowls as she wiggles into the carriage.

 _Oops,_ Minato says innocently.

She scowls at him furiously, _You are one pain in the—_

“—we should be there in about thirty minutes, forty if the rain has finished settling into the ground from last night’s thunderstorms,” Shikamaru calculates and effectively cuts off Sakura’s plans for maiming.

“The Daimyo doesn’t live far from Konoha,” Sakura observes.

Kakashi shakes his head, “He can’t really afford to; security.”

“Hm.”

Minato takes a seat across from her and she has to force herself to not smack that grin off his face; not that she could anyway.

—

The Daimyo lives in a palace—a real, marble-embedded, and stone-colored palace. He even has his own _shrine,_ it’s located in the south of his compound, and Sakura is assisted out of the carriage by claiming a death grip on Kakashi’s left hand.

“Sakura-chan, my bones aren’t what they used to be,” he winces and then tries to squirms his fingers away from her grip.

“This kimono weighs more than Pakkun,” she pauses and then scowls, “And you’re not _that_ old, Kakashi-sensei.”

Kakashi rolls his eyes.

The steps leading to the main gate of the palace are made of igneous rock, obsidian polished, and they are cut with the precision of a katana. Even Sasuke would appreciate this craftsmanship and its originality. Though, when Sakura takes a closer look, she realizes why the stonework looks so familiar. She had remembered seeing something like this in Iron country, the same detailing and spiral cuts.

Shikamaru leads them up the stairs, he had studied the floorplans from the carriage, and memorize they have blueprints in case of an emergency. It’s a contingency plan, just in case, this was an ambush. Though Sakura highly doubted that, she didn’t disagree, it was better to be safe than it was to be sorry.

“Sakura-sama, or should I say Hokage-sama,” Mikan greets their party when they reach the front doors of the main building. His dark eyes glint, “Welcome to my home.”

“Sakura is fine,” Sakura smiles demurely and bows lowly, “Thank you for inviting us, I must say I was quite surprised to hear that you wanted to extend your lunch invitation, so quickly of course.”

The Daimyo shakes his head in offers her his arm and continues, “I thought it was about time.”

Shikamaru shrugs at Kakashi and they follow the duo deeper into the compound. The Nara isn’t quite sure what to make of the Daimyo’s obvious favoritism towards Sakura, it might work out in their favor.

“About time for what?” she asks curiously as they walk up the stairs to another section of his home.

“That I invite the Hokage into my home,” Mikan smiles and squeezes her arm, “I’m glad that it was you, Sakura-sama.”

Minato scowls and walks side by side with Sakura.

“So can I assume that this is a friendly visit?” Sakura gets right down to business and she doesn’t mince words for anyone, “I only ask because, well, Kakashi-sensei was upset that he wasn’t invited before.”

A lie.

But a finely crafted one, small enough to grab onto something but not big enough to create an earthquake.

“Sakura-chan,” Kakashi chides lightly from the back of the, but he sees what she’s doing and agrees with her wordplay.

“I apologize, Kakashi-sama,” The Daimyo chuckles at that and leads them into a more traditional room. Sasuke appears next to Kakashi and gives Shikamaru a look. “I didn’t realize how you jealous you were of Sakura-sama.”

His eyes crinkle at the edges and he inclines his head in response, “Sakura-chan is quite popular and I hadn’t realized how popular she was until I heard that she was invited to the palace.”

“There is always an advantage in a situation, even if you’re not the one who initially proposes the idea,” Mikan says wisely and gestures for them to take a seat at their tables, “Food will be served shortly.”

Sakura isn’t surprised that her table is the closest to the Daimyo – Mikan-sama sits at the table in the front of the room on top of the stairs – and takes a seat. She desperately tries to remember some etiquette that her mother had taught her years ago, back when she thought that tea ceremonies, would help her when she decides to get married and impress her in-laws. Unfortunately, Sakura took the same route her parents did and that was to become a shinobi.

Kneeling on the floor is not very comfortable, but it looks proper and helps with her posture.

 _I feel like I’m in a movie,_ Minato comments next to her, _And the Daimyo is in love with the main character._

Sakura almost sputters, _Shut up. He just likes me. I saved his daughter._

He shakes his head in disbelief but doesn’t say anything otherwise, his finger rests on her covered thigh and waits there. She knows that no one can see him or what he’s doing—the possessiveness of his actions and the protective gaze he fixes her at times makes something small and warm quiver in the pits of her stomach.

Sometimes, it’s hard for Sakura to contain the smile that wants to spill over her lips; she likes it when Minato is like this.

_It makes her feel safe._

Minato feels it too, the quiet threads of appreciation, something like happiness slides in between his finger and he squeezes her knee tightly in return.

She doesn’t look at him but can feel the ocean of his eyes threatening to swallow her whole.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t greet you, Kakashi-sama, Nara-sama,” Mikan starts again as the maids start to flit into the room with pots of tea, “I was taken aback by Sakura’s beauty.”

Sakura almost snorts, _That was lame._

Minato looks at her, _Do you really think he doesn’t like you—romantically at least?_

She doesn’t know and she most certainly can’t tell now.

“Sakura-chan does look like a flower, I mean it is her namesake after all,” Kakashi says pleasantly, “I’m sure if I were years younger—”

Sasuke elbows Kakashi from the back and scowls at him.

Shikamaru clears his throat, “That’s quite alright, Mikan-sama. Hokage-sama has been quite popular since her coronation.”

“The last time we had such a _popular_ Hokage, it was the Yondaime-sama I believe,” Mikan replies thoughtfully.

Sakura stiffens at that and she clears her throat, “Really?”

“Yes, of course,” The Daimyo shrugs, “I was a child at the time, but I do remember women were very appreciative towards him.”

She shoots Minato a dark glare as he smiles sheepishly. She bites out, “Appreciative?”

“He was quite handsome,” Mikan says lightly, “He was married of course, but that didn’t stop most women from confessing their romantic feelings towards him. He was quite an enigma. Very serious when it came down to Hokage duties, but he was still a feared shinobi, and quite charming too.”

“Huh,” Sakura sips her tea and ignores Minato’s big blue, wondrous eyes, “Interesting.”

“You do not think so, Sakura-sama?” The Daimyo questions lightly.

Shikamaru and Kakashi both whirl their heads to look at Sakura.

She places her teacup on her table, “He died very young, most of what I’ve heard was by rumor.”

“What did you hear?” Mikan inquires curiously.

“That he’s very obsessed with hair,” Sakura replies bluntly, ignoring Minato’s nails that bite inside her thighs, “I assume it’s because he had wild blonde hair, sort of like an electrocuted ferret. His wife had red hair, so I assume there was some type of fet—err, preference, so they say.”

Minato scowls at her furiously and leans in to whisper in her ear, _I’m going to get you for that._

 _You wish,_ she scoffs and pours herself another cup of tea, “I also heard that he’s very good with his hands.”

Shikamaru coughs on his tea.

“He mastered what technique was it? The hiraishin?” Mikan tilts his head innocently and sips his tea, “He was quite ferocious in my time.”

 _Ferocious my ass,_ Sakura frowns into her cup, “You know quite a bit about shinobi, Kisuke-sama.”

He stiffens at that and Kakashi catches it.

“Ah, my father took me into Konoha quite a bit when I was a child,” The Daimyo responds and pours himself another cup of tea, “The Yondaime-sama was in office, but after the Kyuubi’s attack, I wasn’t allowed to leave the palace.”

 _Convenient,_ Sakura muses.

“What is that intrigues about shinobi, Mikan-sama?” Shikamaru asks politely.

“Their craft. So complex, the fact that everyone has their own special set of powers, it’s quite remarkable to us non-shinobi, don’t you think, Sakura-sama?” Mikan circles back to Sakura with his dark eyes.

 _He feels a kinship because we don’t come from shinobi families or clans,_ Minato points out after a moment, _That’s why he was willing to let you visit because you understand the divide and hurdles that falls on civilians when it comes to competing with nin,_ he exhales, _It’s a surprisingly subtle connection._

 _I can work with this,_ Sakura nods more to herself, _I can work this connection, I need someone to bridge that gap, however._

 _He sees you as an anomaly, coming from a civilian clan and rising to the ranks of the strongest shinobi in the world? He’s more in awe of you than anything,_ Minato replies, _You can try the diplomatic angle, it might not lead anywhere, but it’s a start._

“No shinobi is without their drawbacks,” Sakura remarks tactfully and nods at the maid who begins to serve them food, “I certainly struggled in the beginning and I assure you many strong nins have as well.”

“Like the Yondaime-sama?” he puts his cup down to pick up his chopsticks, “I also heard he came from a civilian family.”

The answer almost slips off her tongue, she bites the inside of her cheek to contain it and tilts her head, “He also was from a civilian clan, so they say. I think he was quite something.”

“To become Hokage? Of course, no one receives the Kageship that easily,” Mikan agrees and says thanks for his food, “I always thought you were something special, Sakura-sama.”

“You are too kind, Kisuke-sama,” Sakura takes a bite out of her grilled fish.

The pleasantries carry on for a bit, talks about his cherry tree in the back of his compound, koi in his lake, and birds he domesticates as a hobby. Kakashi interjects every once in a while to inquire about his health and Shikamaru makes a small comment about some literature, but other than that, the lunch is very peaceful.

“Have you heard from the Water Daimyo, Kisuke-sama?” Sakura looks at her tray of mochi and cakes with barely restrained glee.

“Kaito? No, which is understandable,” Mikan smiles when Sakura takes a swipe of the matcha-flavored cake roll.

“Why do you say that, Mikan-sama?” Shikamaru interjects smoothly.

“After the disaster that happened in Mist? I assume that Kaito doesn’t want to take any risks with speaking with the Mizukage,” The Daimyo shrugs, “Sometimes it’s better that we don’t get involved.”

Sakura bites the inside of her cheek and sips on her tea to stop the tongue lashing she wants to give Mikan.

People are _starving,_ they need money for medical, supplies, and they need jobs. Providing his people with the money for basic survival needs should be a _given,_ not a luxury. It infuriates her to see such callousness and blatant dismissal. Minato’s hand leaves her thigh – there’s a space of heat that rests there – and tangles his fingers with hers.

“What I wanted to speak to you about is an invention, it was created from one of our citizens,” Sakura starts off and takes a slice of her green tea roll, “A civilian who lives in the eastern district, it’s called the telephone.”

—

It doesn’t take much to convince Mikan-sama to invest in Hikaru’s invention, it takes even less time to set up the contract – thank God for Shikamaru’s big brain, it seems to be working in overdrive today – and just before she is to leave for the palanquin, Kakashi receives a messenger bird.

Shikamaru removes the letter from the messenger bird and reads it swiftly. His face mars into something war-like and he looks up at Sakura, “Naruto left Konoha three hours ago on a mission assigned by Tsunade-sama. There has been an attempted retrieval of Miyagi Toma.”

Minato stiffens behind her.

“How many?” Sakura demands and Sasuke appears next to her.

“Ten assailants,” he reads, “At least four B-rank level nin; unconfirmed.”

“Ten nin are a lot of people to break out Miyagi from Konoha’s hospital,” she muses over and her green eyes focus on Minato, _do the bells still work?_

 _The alarm? It should,_ he pauses, _But we haven’t used that since the Kyuubi attacked the village._

“Sound the alarm Shikamaru,” Sakura and grabs a kunai from Sasuke’s holster. She slices down the sides of her kimono, “I don’t want them leaving the village.”

“Formation Ryu?”

She confirms with a nod, “Formation Ryu. I want all Jounin on standby. Tsunade-sama is calling the shots until I get back in the village, but she’s going to be working the medical unit—I want Kiba and Lee running point. Genma I want you on Kakashi’s ass, if he decides to be annoying, knock him out.”

Genma snorts and Kakashi scowls in disbelief.

“You’re still recovering from that poison and you haven’t started your physical therapy, don’t give me that look Hatake,” Sakura narrows her eyes and Shikamaru sends out the messenger bird, “How long will it take for us to reach the village gates?”

“Ninja speed, twenty minutes,” Sasuke answers swiftly and glances at her legs.

She nods, “I’ll take point, Sasuke I want you at my six, Shikamaru my left and the remainder of my ANBU squad can watch the perimeter.”

“Is it a good idea to keep your ANBU in the back?” Shikamaru asks as they start running through the trees, “They are supposed to protect you.”

“I was flayed while I was conscious by those men, Shikamaru,” Sakura states flatly and slides underneath a branch, “They aren’t getting away a second time.”

Shikamaru winces, “That could be called a conflict of interest.”

“Is it a conflict of interest if these nin are trying to extract a member of their terrorist organization right under Konoha’s nose?”

“Sakura has a point, Nara,” Sasuke admits and speeds up, “You should stay back.”

Sakura snorts, “No offense, Sasuke, but I’m only running so you can keep up. Otherwise, I would’ve used the hiraishin to reach the main gates by now, you would’ve slowed me down.”

That comment was unnecessary, but she couldn’t help it.

Shikamaru shoots Sasuke a look that’s both stunned and worrying.

 _Don’t be reckless,_ Minato warns her, _Shikamaru has valid concerns._

 _That’s rich coming from you, Minato,_ Sakura huffs, _I’m fine. I’m not an idiot._

 _I’m not saying you are, Sakura,_ he frowns and runs next to her.

 _You stopped ended the Third Shinobi war single-handedly, I’m sure I can stop them from leaving,_ she points out.

 _I know,_ Minato gives her a small smile, _I believe in you._

Sakura doesn’t look at him, lest she’ll forget her anger and then her determination would slip through her fingers. She needs to sharpen her ire and use it as a blade to pin her enemies on the ground they stand. She picks up the speed and they reach the front gates in record time.

Part of the Ryu formation is to force all invaders outside of the village, but Sakura needs her Jounin to keep them just outside of the village, to circle them and keep them in one position just until she reached the gates.

Sakura stiffens when she sees them.

 _White-bone masks_.

The same masks that she saw in Whirlpool all those months ago, those same masks that tried to grab Minato’s scroll and she stills in her tracks.

Minato is trying to put the pieces together.

She barks, “Sasuke.”

“I see them,” Sasuke tenses in his movements, and his fingers are already gripping his katana.

“Alive,” Sakura tells him and she shifts into a defensive position, “Dead if you have to.”

Sasuke disappears and Shikamaru goes with him. The Nara figured that she had enough backup, her ANBU squad is nothing to scoff at. Sakura doesn’t have gloves, so she has to focus on keeping her body fluid and her speed even faster. She grabs a kunai from holster and flashes.

Sakura takes the back of a nin’s neck and slams him into the ground, the earth uprooting from the sharp blow and flashes again. She pulls back her fist and slides under a water dragon. She hisses, “You have some nerve walking into Konoha.”

The man behind the mask laughs, “You’re security is atrocious, how did they make _you_ Hokage?”

“Tell me that again when I got rid of your little _poison,_ ” Sakura brushes off the insult and laughs coldly, “Unfortunate. You thought that little trick would cause panic? Unlikely.”

He tightens his grip on his katana and strikes at her, “You think you’re so smart? You still haven’t condemned us.”

“I don’t need to,” she slams her kunai against the katana, using the movement to slide the blade against the iron of his sword and slam a fist into his ribcage, “I’m going to eviscerate you and your friends, off the books.”

The nin slides back into a tree and Sakura uses the hiraishin to reach him. She needs to disable him, but then he pulls out another water jutsu, a water bullet and she has to jump to avoid being hit.

Sakura flashes again and slices her kunai against his throat—a clone.

“You were that bitch from Whirlpool,” he recognizes her from that botched mission; wonderful. “Boss was not happy with your interference.”

_Boss?_

“Why were you even in Whirlpool?” Sakura doesn’t realize she’s asking this aloud, but when his partner appears at his back in the blink of an eye, she decides to take higher ground and assess her terrain.

“You still haven’t figured it out?” he laughs gleefully and strikes her with _something._

 _What the hell is that?_ Sakura asks.

It looks like wind, one pure blast, like a slap of a hurricane, but it’s black—electric and humming; almost like chakra. It could probably be chakra, it has all the properties, but that’s _impossible._ It’s impossible to shoot _raw_ chakra, it has to be converted into elemental ninjutsu.

 _It doesn’t look like ninjutsu,_ Minato comments from her right and crouches next to her, _The energy is too violent._

His partner’s mask is different, it has a slit for his eyes and she’s almost startled by how dark his eyes are—even his sclera is dark and the only reason she can tell, is because his pupils are white. He shoots another shot again and his partner grabs another water dragon.

 _Higher terrain, the ground is saturated,_ she swears softly.

 _If you or someone else uses a lightning jutsu, you would end up hurting yourself,_ Minato warns her and then grits his teeth, _If you can get close to them, you could knock them out._

 _My sandals are wet, I don’t want to take that risk,_ Sakura scowls, _I knew I should’ve taken up some genjutsu techniques._

His partner sends another blast of what? Wind? Chakra? She dodges again, but she doesn’t expect the energy to slam her against the nearest tree.

 _Sakura!_ Minato calls out and his anger is like a flood that reaches the darkest areas of her mind

Her back cuts into the harsh bark, a long splinter cutting into the side of her dress, exposing her rib and blood.

Sakura heals it instantly, but Minato still asks her with a tight jaw and dark, _dark_ storm eyes _Are you okay?_

 _I’m fine,_ she says automatically and stands up with a deep breath. Minato’s anger is always overwhelming, wrathful, and justified; it’s seductive in the pulse of his temples.

“Oh?” The partner who uses the black chakra says with interest, “What is this?”

He licks his blade with the back of his tongue and shifts his stance, “You do have the scroll. Was that wise? To take that with you?”

“What?” Sakura whispers and grabs her kunai from the ground, _Can he sense you?_

 _That would be impossible,_ Minato orbits her and glances at the nin with narrowed sapphire eyes, _He wouldn’t even feel the demon chakra._

 _I’m not talking about the chakra,_ she corrects and murmurs, _I’m talking about you._

“Let me help you out,” he chuckles menacingly, dark and with specks of chakra. He grabs his katana and snaps it in half.

Sakura eyes widen and flashes to the left. He uses half a ram seal and a full dog. He pulls the two pieces of his katana into a ninety-degree angle and flings another black wave. This time, the black wave of wind his stronger, faster, and even though Sakura flashes past it, it _follows her._

“What the _hell_?” Sakura hisses and flashes back again. It’s like it has a locked on target, the fact that it keeps following her even though she uses the hiraishin in a dizzying pattern. Shikamaru has his partner locked in a shadow jutsu and Sasuke is fighting three nin at once.

In the midst of keeping an eye on her team, her teammates, and the terrain; she hesitates. The black of the wind jutsu slams in her left foot and it engulfs her form.

For one brief moment, one perfect moment, Sakura cannot breathe even more than she could move. There is darkness, pure darkness and she calls out for Minato—needing the light of his eyes to guide her out of this pit, but there is nothing. She feels like she’s drowning and that’s when it disappears.

The light flashes, golden and beautiful—then it’s gone.

—

It starts like this:

Sakura is engulfed by the black wave of chakra for a brief moment and then—then it flashes from gold to blue.

Shikamaru physically _sees_ Minato, being thrown out of Sakura’s body, he stumbles on the ground and for a moment there is pure disbelief. Minato looks down at his hands and tests the touch with his fingers; _alive._

He inhales shakily and focuses.

There are moments. So many moments where steps skip, stages are tossed and ideals are diminished.

But there isn’t any time to contemplate, to question the mere fact of the matter, because time doesn’t stop for _anyone._

Minato, who is _alive,_ is thrown out of Sakura’s body and he’s immediately using the hiraishin to grab the _throat_ of the nin who injured their current Hokage.

He’s fucking _real._

Shikamaru knows this when he slits the throat of the nin without so much as a blink, with blood-stained fingers he looks at his partner who has gone pale from the sight of Yondaime –his haori blowing in the wind – and the sight of his decapitated partner.

Sasuke stares at the scene dumbfounded.

Sakura watches the picture in front of her with both incredulity and knee-weakening joy. Minato alive and in action is probably one of the greatest things she’s ever _witnessed,_ but her mind is a _mess._ She feels anger, fury, contentment, confusion, and anxiety all wrapped up in one.

She’s never felt so discombobulated in her life, Sakura has grown so used to feeling Minato that being away from him makes the anxiety in her stomach spike.

With blood-stained fingers, Minato turns his head to see Sakura leaning against a dead tree, a gash on her forehead that she hasn’t bothered to clean, but her eyes are sharp and knowing as they look at him.

He walks closer to her, he walks and walks until he’s running towards her. He helps her stand and cups her cheeks. Minato’s voice is tight, barely restrained and his blue eyes are _sparkling_ with flecks of gold and silver. His fingers that are still wet with blood swipe over her jawline, “Are you alright?”

Sakura nods quickly, not quite trusting her voice.

He nods too, the tension doesn’t leave him, not even when she _grabs_ his forearms with disbelief. Green eyes look all over, fingers tracing his shoulders, his wrists, his chest and breathes out a giddy little laugh, “You’re here—you’re _real._ ”

Minato knows this, but he can’t speak—too overwhelmed by his emotions, the pit in his throat and it’s almost _too much_. He knows that he’s real when he can feel her fingertips, the smell of jasmine against his nose, the heat of her flesh on his skin and he _feels_ and _loves_ and _loves_ and he cannot contain himself and—

—he leans down and finally, _finally_ kisses her.


	19. cosmos

“How is he?” Sakura asks Tsunade when she walks out of the examination room. She’s still in her torn kimono, with a bloodstain speckled at her temple and messy hair. She leans against the wall with Shikamaru and Kakashi sitting in the chair—Sasuke standing right next to her.

“Perfect,” Tsunade shakes her head in disbelief, “It’s like he never aged—the _brat_.”

She swallows a laugh and her eyes brighten at that, “Everything is okay? No side effects or anything?”

“Nothing of the sort, though he is low on iron,” she comments lightly and glances at his chart, “His chakra is a complete mess, however. He has enough to survive on, but that’s it.”

“It’s shot?” Shikamaru exclaims with disbelief.

“No, it’s just extremely low,” Tsunade explains and crosses her arms, “It’s going to take him _weeks_ to build back his reserves to at least that of a genin level. I can’t say when his chakra reserves will be back to the way it was. It could take months or maybe even a few years.”

“He has that much chakra?” Sasuke blinks.

“His chakra restoration rate is very, _very_ slow. Once he starts using his muscles again and restarts his training, it should speed up the process,” the Godaime clarifies, “Remember he’s been out of commission for months, the body has an adjustment period before it decides to bounce back. I can’t give an exact estimate as to when he’ll be in peak condition, but this is Minato. He always beats the odds.”

Sakura nods slowly, “Any idea to how he got out of me—my body?”

“Yang energy,” Shikamaru answers easily enough for her, “Raw yang energy, just like how we were theorizing the other day.”

“That’s impossible,” Kakashi cuts him off there, full stop. “It’s impossible to _fling_ raw yang energy. Sakura uses raw chakra to turn a tree into kindling, but she molds it into her fist which is essentially conversion, even if it’s in its most basic form. Using yang chakra without conversion—is _impossible._ ”

“Minato was bound to you Sakura with Yin chakra, Yang chakra pulled him out,” Tsunade mulls over that and shakes her head, “Sometimes the most complicated questions have the simplest answers.”

“Wait—” Sasuke takes a step back and raises his brows, “That’s it? You’re not going to do a follow-up? No investigation?”

“We have one nin aside from Miyagi, that we captured,” Sakura replies patiently, “I can’t risk sending out more nin, not just yet. I’ll be monitoring Minato on his condition as well as mine. I want you to dig up whatever you can on yang chakra, Shikamaru. There aren’t a lot of people who can use _raw_ yang energy. The only person known to use raw yin and yang chakra for both offensive and defensive technique was the man who created the tailed beasts.”

Kakashi stills.

“Something isn’t adding up,” she finishes. “Naruto is scheduled to go to Kumo tomorrow. His objective is to help Darui with the education system, but his _main_ objective is to follow the money trail.”

“Money trail?” Sasuke asks.

“Later,” Sakura dismisses the thought realize that this isn’t the place to have this conversation so casually and looks over at the closed examination room, “Just—Just give me ten minutes.”

Kakashi glances at Shikamaru who covers a smile with the back of his hand and Tsunade hands her his chart.

The Nanadaime opens the door to the examination room and closes it. Minato sits on the bed with his bareback facing her, he looks at his right hand and then makes a fist. The veins in his arms protrude with the flex of muscle and she swallows thickly at the display of power.

“Well,” Sakura starts off and glances at his chart to avoid looking at his eyes, “Your vitals are fine. A little low on iron,” she walks over to him, “Nothing like some supplements and daily vitamins to help boost those RBCs—”

She’s nervous—why is she _nervous_?

“—your chakra system, unfortunately, is a mess,” she licks her lips and flips over a page. She knows she’s in front of him, but she wants to finish her diagnosis before she gets lost in the ocean of his eyes, “I think, well, Tsunade-sama thinks that it will take you a few years to get your reserves back to the way it was before, but I think that it might take you a little less than a year with your skills.”

Minato doesn’t say anything.

That’s when Sakura looks up.

The Yondaime pins her with hauntingly blue sapphire orbs, they are electric in real life, with flecks of white gold, lightning, and salt. She feels slightly faint at the pure, unadulterated, single-minded focus he gives her and she tugs a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She demands one part irritated and two parts flustered, “What?”

Minato grabs his chart from her hands and tosses it somewhere on the bed. He wants to savor this moment, the first full look he has of her, from her torn outfit to the sweat mangled at the back of her neck now that he’s _alive._ Breathing and bleeding, he devours the picture in front of him for a full fifteen seconds before he tugs the silk of her obi and drops his head to capture lips in a fierce kiss.

Sakura’s fingers grab onto his shoulders suddenly, desperately, hands smoothening over his back muscles, the hard tendon behind his neck and he pulls her until her kimono parts down his laps and her bare legs straddle his thighs on the bed.

Minato’s hands are _everywhere._

They slide in between her thighs, touching the soft skin of her pelvis, smoothening over her breasts, curving over the back of her ears – her hairpins fall to the ground with a metallic clatter – and she rakes her nails down his back.

He hisses against her tongue and she nips his lower lip playfully.

“Sakura,” Minato growls against the curve her lips and groans when her fingers twist in between gold-spun strands. She yanks his head back impishly, runs her tongue down his jawline, and nips at his pulse, “You’re such a _tease_.”

Sakura laughs against his neck, “I’m the _tease?_ Really? _Me_?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” he frowns when she removes her mouth from his carotid artery and she presses her chest against his clavicle.

“Do I really have to explain?” she sighs with such disappointment that the blonde feels his mouth part open in incredulity. 

In retaliation, Minato’s palm, which rests against her inner thigh, suddenly slides over her covered sex and he cups her gently. Sakura hisses into his ear, “Minato—don’t start something you can’t _finish_.”

“I can finish—” he hisses against her throat when he sinks a finger inside and the wet velvet of her walls clamps down on his digit greedily.

“I swear to all the _Gods_ there are, that if you stop—” Sakura whimpers when he slips in another finger and stretches her, slowly. She fists a hand in his hair, “The door isn’t _locked_!”

“Then you’re going to have to keep quiet,” Minato chuckles against her cheek, he adjusts her position, opening her wider, and presses a light kiss to her lips. He murmurs, “You have no idea how _long_ I’ve waited to do this.”

His fingers, slow as they are, are deliberate when they curl upwards and she can feel herself tremble at his sluggish movements. She bites down on her lower lip to prevent herself from whining in frustration and he presses soft, chaste kisses against her mouth. Her legs tremble in an effort to stay upright and Minato presses his free hand to her lower back in order to steady her, but it just forces his fingers to sink deeper into her.

“—er, is the Yondaime decent, Sakura?” Shikamaru asks awkwardly from the other side of the door.

Sakura drops her forehead into the corner of her neck when Minato stills inside her. Tears of frustration prick the sides of emerald orbs, her voice is soft and pitiful, a sharp contrast to the anger in her words, “I’m going to _kill_ you—I’m going to _strangle_ the life out of you, you fucking _pest_.”

Minato has the audacity to laugh against her throat and calls out, “Just a minute, Shikamaru!”

She’s wobbly when she’s back on her feet, she slaps the blonde’s hands when he attempts to help her adjust her clothing and exhales slowly. When she opens her eyes – when had she closed them?– she sees him slip on his shirt and narrows jade orbs at his sheepish form. Sakura scowls, “And when I kill people Minato, they _stay_ dead.”

“Never stopped me before, Hokage-sama,” Minato winks, cleans his fingers deliberately with the quick flick of his tongue and she gapes in disbelief, “Come in.”

Kakashi and Shikamaru’s discomfort takes to another level when they see how _pissed_ Sakura is.

“You’re needed in the office, Sakura,” Shikamaru clears his throat, he gives her an out and flinches when she stomps past him.

Kakashi breathes, “Minato-sensei.”

Minato smiles all wobbly and stands up.

—

“Long shower?” Ino asks her as Sakura huffs and puffs into her office with wet hair. Sakura is not wearing her usual high-fashion outfit – the one that Ino had _personally_ picked out for her – she wears her black jogger pants, a sleeveless ANBU top with her Hokage haori over it, and a pair of standard sandals.

“I had blood in my hair,” Sakura replies tersely and drops herself into her chair. She brings her head onto the table and shrieks softly into the oak with exasperation.

“Feel better?” she asks after a moment.

The Hokage wilts a little and sits up, “Yes. I didn’t count on having a prison breakout while I was out of the village. That and fighting in my very, _very_ expensive kimono dress.”

“Ibiki-senpai is personally monitoring Miyagi,” Ino fills her in and places some files on her desk, “He’s not being let out of his sight until you figure out what to do with him. Also, here are the files for the global medical program.”

“The paperwork is ready to go?” Sakura perks up at that and flips through the file.

“Yeah,” she shrugs, “Shizune-senpai had done most of it by the time I got to the technique section and Tsunade-sama had looked it over to see if we missed anything; we just need your approval.”

“That was fast,” she comments lightly and skims over the preface, “Did you include a section for Shī.”

“I did,” Ino takes a seat in front of her for a moment, “I gave him enough room to make suggestions, but not enough wiggle room for him to have an opinion.”

“You’ve been listening to Shikamaru,” Sakura whistles with pride and nods, “We need to keep an eye on him.”

“Shikamaru?”

“No, Shī,” she scoffs and leans back in her chair, “The suddenness of his arrival is suspicious and there is something that the Raikage is not being open about either.”

“Shī came for you, Sakura,” Ino snorts and crosses her arms underneath her chest, “And for the glory, of course, running the first global medical program? He wants that credit.”

“Shī was never one for glory,” Sakura frowns and considers that, “He’s always been more humble, if anything and he’s compassionate too. It has to be something else.”

The Yamanaka clan heir furrows her brows but doesn’t say anything otherwise.

“What did I tell you about leaving your hair wet?” Minato’s voice breaks through the tension, he swings his legs over the window sill and looks at her expectantly, “You’re going to get sick.”

Ino blanks for a second and her jaw nearly hits the floor in shock.

She scowls at him, “I’m _fine._ I’m always _dry._ ”

The Yamanaka clan head, who is still gaping, frowns, for just a moment, “What does that even _mean?_ ”

The Yondaime’s lips twitch upwards, a dimple peeking from his hard jaw, he grabs a blanket from the couch and uses it as a make-shift towel on her hair. “Just because you’re mad at me doesn’t mean you get to take it out on yourself.”

“You selfish, annoying—mph!” she’s cut off when the blanket covers her mouth from Minato’s swift hair-drying.

“Sakura!” Ino snarls and waves her hands directly at Minato in obvious speechlessness, “What _the_ hell is going on?”

Sakura pulls down the blanket from her head, shoots the Yondaime a glare, and replies, “Ino, this is Namikaze Minato. He is the Fourth Hokage who has been living inside my head for nearly a year due to a botched mission and an even more unfortunate summoning scroll.”

_“What?”_

She sighs, “Shikamaru will explain it to you, just don’t tell anyone until I figure out how to address—”

“—that nosy, cloud-loving, lazy, but wants to be called genius _knew?_ I knew he was hiding something from me!” Ino jumps up from her chair and stalks outside the hall as her voice trails off, “Just _wait_ till I get my hands on…”

“She really does have a one-tracked mind,” Minato observes with amusement and closes the door with thinly-veiled irritation.

“That’s my best friend you’re talking about,” Sakura replies defensively.

Then Ino pops her head back in from in between the door and she smiles sunnily, “Welcome back Yondaime-sama. Sakura, I’m revoking our best friend privileges.”

When Ino disappears again, Sakura can’t wipe the look of exasperation from her face long enough to growl at her documents on the desk and brings her hands to her face. She’s so _tired_ of all of these surprises, she’s going to get premature gray hair because of Minato and his stupid _face_ —

“—hey,” Minato grabs her hands from her face and kneels in front of her. He looks at her seriously, calm ocean orbs placate her for a moment and he asks with concern, “Are you okay? Did that jutsu hurt you or anything?”

Sakura shakes her head and he presses her hands against his face. She confesses, “No. I think it was more of an extraction technique. One that’s intent is to disconnect rather than to harm.”

“He hit you more than once,” he points out and she curls her fingers around his cheeks.

“You killed him,” Sakura states a matter-of-factly and traces his the skin underneath his eyes, “I guess we’ll never know.”

“I won’t apologize for it, Sakura,” Minato declares bluntly, expressionlessly and his teeth nip at her wrist.

“I know,” she breathes.

He stands up then, drops her hands, and looks around the office. He smiles at the picture of team seven hanging behind the sofa of the sitting area and takes a seat on her desk, “It’s almost nostalgic.”

“You know,” Sakura says casually and stamps _approval_ on a mission file, “Technically, you could take back the Kage position.”

Minato looks at her abruptly and asks, “Why would I do that?”

She pauses, “I mean, you were Hokage longer than I was and you have much more experience than me. So, it would make much more sense for you to assume office,” she doesn’t look at him when she says this, “And I’ve only been Hokage, for what? Almost half of a year?”

“Your face is already on the Kage Mountain,” he retorts and tilts his head, “It wouldn’t do us much difference. Technically, you have as much experience as I did—do.”

Sakura considers that for a moment—he, in a way, is correct. She does have the same amount of experience he has, ANBU and Jounin missions aside – she doesn’t think she’ll ever have that much underneath her belt at this time – and grasps at her last straw, “You’re older than me.”

Minato snorts, “Two years doesn’t amount to anything.”

She pouts despite herself and changes the subject, “Naruto will be here soon,” she pauses, “Do you want to talk to him—before I do?”

He grimaces, “I think that would be better,” then smiles bitterly, “I don’t know how he’s going to take it.”

“What?” Sakura frowns, “You think he’ll be angry?”

“Naruto has changed so much since he was a teenager,” Minato’s shoulders droop and he looks out the window, “I don’t know how to talk to him. He’s a man now and it’s—I missed everything. He’s like a completely different person.”

She bites her tongue from saying something reckless, honest, but unpleasant nonetheless. She merely looks at him with emerald eyes and leans in her chair.

The truth of the matter is, Minato may be Naruto’s biological father, but he has never really been his _father._

It’s a wretched conclusion, one that grips him by the throat and forces him to acknowledge his own failures. It’s never a comfortable issue to face, his mistakes, and the things that he could’ve done better, but Sakura thinks, that Minato has to come to his own decisions.

She’s heard of these thoughts before, but she has never commented on it because it’s not her place to judge their relationship.

The fact that Sakura can no longer hear Minato is as relieving as it is uneasy. Sakura has gotten so used to having another voice inside her, guiding her, encouraging her, and comforting her when her thoughts tend to take a dark edge. He wasn’t like Inner Sakura, if she had to compare notes, Inner was more of a darker nature, one where she suppressed her own emotions—metaphorically, it could be seen as the demon on her shoulder whispering in her ear.

“You won’t know unless you talk to him,” she offers after a while and puts her files in her dresser after that, “Naruto tends to surprise you when you least expect it.”

Minato doesn’t say anything to that.

Sakura stands up abruptly and stands in between his legs. She presses her lips underneath his jaw, “I’m going home, lock up and bring Naruto by tonight. I need to brief him before he leaves.”

He cups the back of her neck, he keeps there and leans his head in to kiss her gently. She hums against his mouth and pulls back before he can chase her lips, “I’ll see you tonight.”

—

After an emergency meeting—Sakura wanted to _kill_ someone. She cannot believe those Elders, she would have to talk to Minato about their insubordination and their behavior which bordered on _absurd_ —! Minato has a lot deal with his plate at the moment, however, she isn’t sure if tonight is the night to bring it up.

She inhales deeply and then drops her shoulders.

Sakura won’t lie and say she’s _not_ nervous for Minato, but she won’t think about it. She won’t. Instead, she focuses on her bucket of ice cream that she’s insistent on shoveling down her throat after a bowl of spicy miso ramen. She doesn’t eat ramen outside of Ichiraku’s, mostly because she’s _sick_ of eating the same thing, but tonight, she needs something comforting.

She flicks through the channels of her new television until she comes across the weather channel, she scowls at the weather for this week; _rain._

As if she _needs_ more rain.

“Where the hell do you put all that ice-cream, Sakura-chan?” the suddenness of Naruto’s voice causes her to drop her spoon onto the floor with a loud clatter. She blinks rapidly and then looks at the traps on her windows; undone.

“Do both of you not know what a _door_ is?” Sakura scowls with irritation and grabs the spoon that fell on her hardwood floors. She gets up and tosses the spoon into the sink. When she turns to look at the blonde duo, Naruto grabs her half-pint of ice cream and scoops the strawberry creamery with his fingers. She grimaces and points to the drawer on her right, “Use a spoon, you heathen.”

“Too far,” Naruto takes a seat on her sofa and Minato is the one that hands him a spoon.

“You didn’t even wash your hands, Naruto,” Minato frowns at that.

“Ugh, you sound like Sakura-chan,” he groans but scoops with the utensil from the bucket nonetheless.

“It’s unsanitary,” Sakura rolls her eyes and takes a seat on the loveseat across him, “Tell me, how did the scouting mission go?”

“Useless as much as anything,” Naruto scowls, “I didn’t find anything leading to the _Mizuchi._ I think baa-chan sent me on a wild goose chase. The only thing I was able to find out was that there are ten members.”

“Ten?” she raises her brows at that and Minato takes a seat on her hand rest.

“Ten members,” he repeats and watches the Yondaime lean against Sakura’s shoulder suspiciously, “The leader is not a nin, however.”

“I wouldn’t say that’s nothing, Naruto,” Sakura replies in disbelief.

“They are definitely mercenaries,” Minato confirms and his eyes sharpen, “That means they can be bought.”

She snorts, “We don’t have the funds for that regardless. The Mizuchi also seem to have a code of honor, if that prison break had anything do with it.”

“They probably wanted to try and kill Miyagi so he doesn’t give out any information,” Naruto muses thoughtfully.

“Perhaps,” Sakura concedes and brings her feet underneath her thighs, “Remember when we talked about the financial records for Kumo?”

“Yeah,”

“Kakashi didn’t send them out then. He wasn’t sure if we should use a back-channel,” she explains, “We don’t know who’s working with who, so I’m going to give you an opportunity to scout out some information when you leave for Kumo tomorrow.”

“You put that to the side?” Naruto asks with disbelief.

“We didn’t have the time Naruto,” Sakura replies patiently, “It wasn’t a priority. Kakashi-sensei came first and then with the coronation—aiding Mist. I couldn’t do anything about it then, but I could do something about it now.”

“When you go to Kumo you will be the direct link to Konoha,” Minato jumps in here, “You will investigate that chakra-suppressing metal and find out where the money trail leads. We don’t want to assume that Kumo is creating _banned shinobi tools_ because that’s a violation of international law and the country can be punished severely for it.”

“Darui doesn’t seem like a person who would willingly do that anyway, but someone _is,_ ” she continues, “Put a stop to that weapon production factory is the secondary mission, but do it with Darui’s permission. I don’t think he can say no to you.”

“Under the ruse of a diplomatic mission,” Naruto states bluntly.

Sakura rolls that thought around her head, “Think about it as your first test.”

“Test?”

“I understand that this mission entails a lot, especially for a solo-mission,” she lists and presses her hand underneath her chin, “If you, somehow, manage to get pieces of information—information that can somehow put a dent in this unofficial war, I’ll promote you to ANBU.”

Naruto stares at her in shock.

“You learned a lot of litigation and diplomacy this year,” Sakura goes on and Minato’s lips twitch at the edges, “I think you’re ready for ANBU. You have the skills for it – despite the fact that we need more ANBU members – and now you have some finesse when it comes to politics,” she pauses and then grins, “Think about it, you’ll get promoted _before_ Sasuke.”

He laughs at that, “The bastard will be the _dead-last_ this time.”

Sakura giggles at that and tugs a strand of her hair behind her neck, “Just do your best Naruto. I know you’ll be great.”

Naruto tosses her the empty carton of ice cream – grinning when she scowls at her empty container – and tosses her spoon into the sink. He ruffles her hair and dodges her blow when she shrieks dark profanities at him. Minato grabs her and keeps her back flush against the cushion and steps over to the side, he beams, “I don’t care what anyone says or what anyone thinks, Sakura-chan. I think you’re a great Hokage.”

Sakura pauses at that and she looks at him with wide emerald orbs, “Really?”

“How can you doubt that, Sakura-chan? You’re supposed to be the smart one,” he shakes his head and gives Minato a hug, “I’ll see you when I get back! You can meet Hinata-chan or have you met her already?”

“I kind of already met her, sort of,” he chuckles sheepishly and pats Naruto on his shoulder.

“I think the first time he met her was during a surgery,” Sakura tries to think back.

“She’s awesome, isn’t she?” Naruto grins and looks over at Sakura, “I can send her letters, right?”

“Of course,” she snorts, “I think it would be better to use a summon though.”

“Why didn’t you tell me tou-san was haunting you?” Naruto asks suddenly and she freezes at the question.

Sakura blinks, momentarily speechless at the switch in conversation and shrugs, “I—because you don’t know how to keep a secret.”

He scowls, “Lies.”

She always did think the best on her feet, “Gaara and the cactus. Chojuro and the fish soup. Shikamaru and the fact that his _deer_ —”

“—okay, I get it!” Naruto almost whines, crosses his arms and looks over at the door, “How long is the mission?”

“Indefinite,” Sakura is glad to change the topic and looks over at Minato, “Keep an eye on Darui when you get there, I’m going to have Ino keep tabs on Shī and put him close.”

“Keep your friends close but your enemies closer,” Minato adds in helpfully.

Naruto snorts, “Shī’s not an enemy, if anything, he’s probably a rival for Lee.”

“Alright, get out,” Sakura rolls her eyes and ignores Minato’s sudden stillness at the name. She points to the door and smiles sweetly, “Say goodbye to Hinata-chan for me.”

The Yondaime raises a brow at that and Naruto flushes, “Sakura-chan!”

“What?” she shrugs innocently and ignores his pointed look towards the Yondaime.

“Are you staying with Sakura-chan, Tou-san?” Naruto looks over at him.

“Probably for the best,” Minato clears his throat and lies, “I don’t know if this form is permanent, Sakura still has my chakra in her.”

He nods.

Then he grins, “Besides I don’t want to disturb you and Hinata-chan—”

Naruto makes a noise between a mortified shriek and a hysterical laugh. He slams the door shut and shouts, “Alright I’m _going!_ ”

Sakura laughs joyfully at that, “What’s the point of having Naruto around if you can’t tease him?”

He presses a kiss to her brow, “I could give him the _talk_ and fulfill my neglected fatherly duties.”

She frowns at the self-depreciation but spins the conversation with, “Ugh, the _sex_ talk? Give him that when you _really_ want to embarrass him.”

Minato raises a brow when she stands up and asks, “So save it as ammunition?”

“Emotional blackmail? Of course,” she winks and walks into the kitchen, “How do you think I used to get him to eat his vegetables?”

“Bribery?”

“Please I’m above such methods,” Sakura scoffs and boils a pot of tea, “Did you eat?”

“We had dinner at Ichiraku’s,” Minato answers and walks into the kitchen, “He was… surprisingly reasonable.”

“What do you mean by that?” she asks and puts the tea leaves in a sieve. 

“It’s kind of hard to explain,” he starts off and sits at the counter, “We just talked for a very long time. We talked about a lot of things. I told him that he might have cousins living in Tea, I told him that I _abhor_ oranges, that I like going to the beach and about Tsubaki’s. I told him that I watched you get tortured in Wave,” he can’t look at her here, “I told him that I couldn’t do anything about it.”

“Minato,” Sakura exhales softly and pours the water through the sieve.

“He said he went through the same thing when he fought Sasuke at the Valley of the End,” Minato offers and leans against the counter, “Or when Orochimaru infiltrated the Forest of Death during the chunin exams. He said that he wished that he could’ve saved a lot of his friends from their suffering—he was either too weak or powerless or at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

She places the cup of tea in front of him.

“He said that he had to accept it and do better from there,” he said softly and accepts the cup of tea, “Naruto has grown up, without me.”

Sakura can hear it even though he doesn’t say it.

_He doesn’t need me._

She walks leaves her cup on the counter and walks over to him. She cups his jaw and slides a thumb over his cheekbone and eases his unspoken statement, “But I need you.”

He rolls his starlight orbs and states openly, “You don’t need me.”

Sakura scowls, presses into his jaw, and presses. She corrects herself, confidently, blatantly, honestly, “But I _want_ you.”

Minato stares at her then and snakes his arms around her waist. His eyes don’t leave hers, not even when he stands up to tower over her and her hands press against his chest instinctively. His fingers trace the edges of her hair, they trail upwards, spider silk, and silver until they twist in her pink hair. 

Sakura kisses him first.

He hums against her lips when she slides her hands to lock around his neck and he slips his hands underneath her big t-shirt. Minato’s palms are wide and warm, they cover the expanse of her back, her scars are more sensitive to the feather caresses and she shivers when he eases his fingertips against the bumps of her spine.

“I want you too,” Minato confesses a secret against her lips, when he grabs the back of her thighs and she wraps her legs around his waist. Sapphire orbs, half-lidded behind bronze lashes observe her lazily, her fingers trace the curve of his ear and she tastes the skin beneath his jaw, “I’ve wanted you for a long time.”

He drops her onto the bed.

Sakura’s breath escapes her lungs and she looks at Minato who hovers over her, abruptly. She inhales sharply when his palms flatten over her knees and slides up her thighs, pushing her shirt above her hipbones. She warns him, “If you leave me high and dry again, I will make you _wish_ you were dead.”

It’s an empty threat, but it doesn’t fail to make him grin.

Minato drops a kiss to her inner thigh, slowly familiarizing the patch of freckles that trickles in the hollow where her thigh and pelvis meet. Then he catches her by surprise when he suddenly slips off his shirt and pushes her further upwards the bed. Her shirt rises higher, just underneath her ribs and she grunts when her rear reaches the edge of the bed. He lays on the bed, settling on his stomach as he drops another kiss to her inner thigh. He murmurs, “High and dry—I don’t seem to remember the _dry_ part.”

“You _fucking_ —” Sakura’s threat travels into a squeak when he nips at her femoral artery and her inner muscles flex at the sting.

He spreads her thighs even further, pressing lingering kisses against her inner thighs, burning brush strokes to the sides of her hips, and then an open-mouthed kiss on her clothed sex.

She arches back at the wet imprint.

Minato grabs her thighs, presses them into the sheets as his teeth pull at her underwear, tugging it to the side, the elastic snaps and covers half her opening, but it’s enough for him to edge her with the brush of his lips.

“Ah,” she chokes out a desperate plea, “If you don’t—ngh.”

Sakura promptly short-circuits when he breathes over her quivering folds deliberately and she’s going to _kill_ him. There’s no way he’s going to survive once she gets her hands on him—

—then he snaps off her underwear with quick fingers and seals his mouth to her sex. Perched, over her folds, his breath tickling her folds as he struggles to keep her pinned to the bed. When he flicks his tongue to swipe upwards, catching on her distended clit‚ Sakura keens high and loud.

It’s a slow seduction, Minato seems to love the way she trembles against him. The sluggish, wet velvet of his tongue sends lightning into her stomach, a pool of liquid heat curls into her gut and she gasps, desperate for some form of control over the tease of his teeth and wicked curl of his tongue.

Sakura’s fingers fist in the sheets and she squirms when he languidly tastes her, in feather-light, dizzying strokes that he intends to drive her insane by just keeping her on the edge of completion. He builds her up, lazily, he takes his time, meticulous in the way he angles her, and then suctions over her neglected nub.

Static, pure static, takes over her neurons, they tingle when she feels herself tip over the cliff, and then Minato suckles furiously her though it all. He is unforgiving, merciless, and greedy as he drags her through her orgasm, prolonging her height of pleasure with his teeth and Sakura is wild in the aftermath.

“Please, please, _please_ ,” Sakura pleads, babbles, just like the first time, except that it’s too much— _too_ much pleasure and it hurts so _good_ that she can’t breathe. Her hips arch and squirm, fingers tangling in the gold of his hair and she tugs him upwards in a needy whine, “Minato _please_.”

Minato relents, for now.

He trails upwards, pressing lingering kisses to her stomach over her clothed, pebbled nipples, and kisses her slow and liquid. Sakura’s fingers tremble when they knot in his hair and he purrs at the scrape down his neck. His fingers slide down her stomach to swipe over her clit and she flinches at the oversensitivity.

“Too much,” Sakura gasps into his mouth, his fingers pause the gentle circles on her button to slide over her thighs and deepens the kiss.

Frantically, she slides off his pants and runs a pointer finger over the band of his boxers.

“Who’s the tease now?” Minato murmurs against her cheek, he grips her hips and then flips them over in one fluid motion.

The air is pulled out of her lungs at the sudden change in position and he tugs off her shirt. Minato smirks against her sternum, “I’m a bit tired, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Why do I always have to do all the work?” she grumbles and helps him slide off his underwear. She squeaks when he swats her bottom at the comment and she jerks her breasts into his face.

He doesn’t mind, capturing a pert nipple in between his mouth for one lingering second before lies flat against the bed, “Because I like the view,” he pauses to swipe over her neglected breast, “It’s quite lovely.”

Sakura scowls at him and shuffles down his body, “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

Minato twists her nipples in his fingers and she shivers at the sharp sting, He furrows his brows, locks sapphire orbs with emerald ones, he holds her there and rubs his thumb over her lips slowly, “No. You’re not.”

She inhales at that and nips at his thumb. She cups him, he jerks his hips when her fingers tease a line down his length, it’s dark in her room, but his eyes are starlight and they light up the room. When Sakura sinks down on him, she is home. Minato pulls her down until she hovers over his lips and he whispers against her mouth, “Look at me.”

Sakura hums and emerald orbs darken into forest-green, “I’m always looking at you.”

Minato moans into her mouth when she starts to move.

She moves slow, rolling her hips roughly, she likes feeling him deep inside her, filling up that empty space—the hollow ache the rests inside her and the taste of him rests at the back of her throat; a reminder. Her hands map out his chest, caressing the hard ridges in his abdomen, teeth against his throat, the wet clap of skin, and a bead of sweat rolls down his sternum.

“Move faster,” he grits his teeth because toes the fine line between completion and a blistering haze. His fingers leave marks her thighs, her hips and he rolls his pelvis so quick, that the length of grazes her rough patch of nerves.

Sakura moans at that, but she presses a palm to his chest and pins him in place. Her smile is sharp as it is sweet and it sends a shiver down his spine when she says, “No.”

He gasps when she cups his scrotum and angles her thrusts, “What do you mean _no_?”

“You don’t come unless I come,” she breathes with sweltering velvet and green eyes glint like jade chips.

“ _Sakura_ ,” Minato snarls when she clamps down on him and he jerks underneath her.

“You’re going to stay here,” Sakura promises softly, she’s going to take her time and drag this out. It’s revenge for him leaving her wanting, it’s vengeance when he left her aching and it’s a punishment when he left her hungry. She murmurs over his lips wickedly, “And _take_ it.”

Minato fists his fingers into Sakura’s hair and kisses her breathlessly.

—

“You had sex,” Ino gasps dramatically and points at her with disbelief, “You have a post-coitus glow.”

“Post-coitus,” Sakura repeats with incredulity and looks away from her documents, “What books are you reading?”

“You didn’t deny it,” she grins mischievously and walks up to her desk with sparkling baby blue eyes, “You look—you look _good._ ”

“Are you telling me that I didn’t look good before?”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” Ino rolls her eyes and gestures to her new-found serenity, “You look less stressed, at ease, your skin’s glowing and,” she frowns, “You look happier.”

Sakura covers her mouth with her hand to hide her smile, but the crinkles at her eyes give her away. The blonde’s eyes widen and she gapes, “What— _who_? _Who_? Sakura have you been holding out on me—I need _information._ ”

“Ino—”

“You’re dating someone, aren’t you? Hell, I’ve never seen that look before,” she pauses, “Not even towards _Sasuke._ It’s someone special isn’t it?” she smirks, “Judging by that look in your eyes, he’s more than just _great,_ and the fact that you missed a bite right underneath your ear.”

Emerald eyes widen and she slaps a hand underneath her jaw, “What—”

“You’re just too easy, forehead,” Ino laughs when she gets caught and narrows her blue-jay eyes, “Now, _who_ is it? Is he hot? Is he packing—I need _details_.”

Sakura opens her mouth—

“—busy, Sakura?” Minato peeks his head in and walks in with Shikamaru in the back of him. He walks up to her desk and smiles at her.

“I was just talking to Ino,” Sakura’s eyes soften when he tugs a long pink hair behind her ear and subtly juts her lower lip.

Sapphire orbs drop their gaze to the plush pink of her lower lip and they darken.

It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together and immediately come up with four.

Ino’s jaw drops at that and then she laughs hysterically, “Oh _forehead,_ we’re going to have a _talk._ Later, of course.”

Sakura winces and then grins, “Later.”

The Yamanaka clan heir gives her a wink and takes a seat next to Shikamaru.

“Do I want to know?” Minato raises a brow at Sakura.

“Probably not,” she murmurs and he drags a seat next to her, “I might be ambushed later, so don’t expect me to come home anytime soon.”

“And here I wanted to take you out to dinner,” Minato sighs and looks over her paperwork, “Petitions?”

“Unfortunately,” Sakura furrows her brows and grabs a spare pen, “The list comes from the civilians.”

“What are they petitioning about?”

“Taxes,” she leans against the chair, “Which is understandable, but it’s one of the main ways Konoha creates funds. Until the Daimyo’s payment is secured with Hikaru, we won’t see a spike in the economy.”

“That’s one way to put money in the citizen’s pockets,” Minato considers that and looks over the list, “Do you have the national bank statements?”

“I have to request those, our accounting department is firm with separating the bank from governmental spending,” Sakura acknowledges their efforts and glances over the spreadsheet, “It’s just easier that way, but it will take some time.”

“For the statements or the approval?”

“Both,” she answers.

There are two things on her agenda that she has to deal with, Sakura glances at the pile of paperwork, three things actually. One of which, she hopes Shikamaru won’t take offense to. The second thing, she hopes that Ino is willing to understand and the third thing she’s sure no one saw coming. She’s counting on the shake-up though, it will give enough shock to the Elders.

Her late meeting with the Elders and councilmen before going home yesterday gave her more than enough to deal with and the positions they put Shikamaru in were enough to snap the frays of her temper. The accused the Nara of corruption, a breach in power, bribery, and obstruction of justice. The accusations were unbelievable, Sakura could hardly wrap her head around them.

Shikamaru had stared at them with disbelief before rattling off on their dishonest behavior and their corruption _before_ the war had started.

It was a mess.

Evidently, at least what Sakura believes, what the Elders were trying to prove, is that Shikamaru, who is a Clan Head has too much power as the Hokage’s advisor. The Nanadaime hadn’t realized what position Shikamaru was put in since becoming Kakashi’s advisor.

But Kakashi was technically out of office, therefore, because of Sakura’s lack of experience, they are more aggressive with their agenda. In the aftermath of it all, Sakura realized that the Elders _may_ have knowledge of the scroll containing the last remaining bits of chakra, but did not know that Minato’s soul had ended getting caught in the summoning realm.

That meant, there probably have a few more secrets that they aren’t releasing.

Sakura isn’t going to give them the _chance_ to anticipate her moves; her first aggressive move of power is to remove the Elders from her council.

Shikamaru is her bishop and she needs to secure his position while giving him enough flexibility to do what he needs to do; she needs evidence. 

“Shikamaru,” Sakura announces suddenly. She hasn’t spoken to Minato or even asked him for counsel about her next move. The Nara stares at her warily before walking towards her and shoves his hands in his pants.

“Hokage-sama,” Shikamaru drawls out with an amused curl of the lips.

She gives him a dry look and then sighs, “I’m appointing you to the position of Hokage’s assistant.”

Ino drops her pen.

“You—what?” he blinks and then straightens his shoulders.

Sakura frowns, “I’m not going to give the Elders another chance to pull that shit again. I’m not going to put you in that position and allow them to get away with they did. I understand that as the Nara Clan Head that you have certain responsibilities and being the Kage’s head-advisor challenges those responsibilities. This isn’t a demotion, but I’m giving you a bit more freedom to exercise some _privileges._ ”

While, technically, demoting Shikamaru may put him under some scrutiny for a few weeks, it will appease the Elders, but it will also give the Nara more freedom to plant all the pieces of the trap. In a way, Sakura is protecting him from a possible libel suit, allegations, and taking him out of the line of fire. He knows that it’s unnecessary, because he will do what he can regardless, but he understands her play and is grateful for Sakura’s intuition.

Shikamaru’s eyes sharpen and nods, “It will be an honor to serve you, Hokage-sama.”

She rolls her eyes and scowls, “Shika, _please._ ”

He gives her a half-smile and confesses, “We should play shogi later.”

“She’s mine for tonight, Shikamaru!” Ino chimes in with irritation from the corner of the room and then pauses, “If that’s okay with you, Yondaime-sama.”

Sakura’s eyes widen at Ino’s audacity.

Shikamaru backs away awkwardly and looks everywhere but at the two Hokages.

Minato considers that and smiles sweetly, “You can have her for lunch, but I want her for dinner.”

Ino’s jaw drops and Sakura hides her face with her palms, the flush reaching the edges of her ears. Minato has to _know_ what his words imply, he has to know what he’s _doing,_ how anyone can perceive that information—

—the hand on her thigh tells her that he knows _exactly_ what he’s saying.

Shikamaru clears his throat, “So who will be your advisor, then?”

Sakura points her thumb in Minato’s direction and scowls, “This pest.”

Minato scowls and tugs on a pink strand, “ _Sakura_ ,”

“A pest,” she confirms with a jerky nod at the sting against her scalp, “I would have Kakashi, but he’s been MIA since I’ve last seen him.”

“He’s holed up in his apartment. He only goes the compound when he doesn’t want to be alone anymore, but you probably already know that,” Ino interjects curiously, “I think he’s been binge-reading.”

“He’s going to rot his brain with all that porn,” Sakura groans and looks up at the ceiling, “Do you think he’s depressed?”

It’s quiet then and Ino suggests, “We can send in Tsunade-sama to check up on him.”

“Tsunade-sama scares him more than anyone, except maybe you, Sakura,” Minato sighs and leans over her desk, “I could talk to him, but I don’t think it would be a good idea.”

“I think he needs some space,” Shikamaru comments lightly.

“Has he been going to physical therapy?” Sakura asks suddenly.

Ino blinks.

“I don’t know,” The Nara admits.

The Hokage sighs, “Ino tell Tsunade-shishou to do an impromptu check-up, discreetly and someone summon Sasuke.”

“On it!” The Yamanaka uses shunshin to run out of the office.

“What do you need the Uchiha for?” Shikamaru bristles at that and glances over at Minato who’s still staring at Sakura.

Sakura winces, “You’ll see.”

“That’s not an explanation,” Minato says flatly.

“I’m the Hokage, I don’t _need_ to answer to you,” she replies darkly and narrows her green eyes at him.

Shikamaru takes that as his cue to disappear, “I’ll get Sasuke and give in the official paperwork to transfer as an assistant.”

He high-tails it out of the room just as Minato grabs Sakura’s chair and pulls it towards him. Her knees are pushed outward over his thighs and she doesn’t shrink back, she meets him halfway. Her fingers grasp on the edges of his blue shinobi pants and she frowns at him; she needs to take him shopping.

“What do you need Sasuke for?” Minato demands and runs over his teeth marks that he left last night over the back of her thigh; she knew there was a reason she decided to wear a dress today.

“A rook,” Sakura says vaguely and shivers when he slides over her the edge of her underwear, “I have ANBU guards outside, Minato.”

“Then be honest,” he frowns but stops when she glares, “That would make Shikamaru his compliment. What could you benefit from Sasuke’s negligence?”

“Sasuke has done a lot since that last mission,” she confesses, tucks her legs underneath her bottom, leaving Minato’s lap empty and tosses him a scroll from another drawer. “It’s been quiet since. He has dedicated his time and energy in hunting down the rest of the Mizuchi. He’s been trying to put together the pieces and he’s—he’s _trying._ Sasuke doesn’t do things to be put under the spotlight, not now at least. He prefers to remain in the shadows and take care of business under the radar.”

“He assassinated half of the Mizuchi?” Minato stares at the scroll in disbelief, “There are ten members, Naruto told us last night. But since when? A few hours ago? The timing of this is—”

Sakura shakes her head, “Sasuke annihilated half of the Mizuchi that first time—remember when he brokered the marriage for the Daimyos? That’s when. It’s why Miyagi was trying to recruit more members, Sasuke fractured their forces. This is the list of confirmed kills that ANBU headhunters gave me earlier this morning.”

“Mercenaries can be bought,” he says abruptly and then glances at the paperwork, “They hit a wall.”

“Miyagi knows the ins and outs of the brothels in Ame, we have him under lock and key here. Ibiki managed to grab intel from that other nin that we captured, that Miyagi was the Mizuchi’s main networker, without him, it’s difficult to get nin to remain loyal to the organization.”

“Verified mercenary group,” Minato nods at that and puts the scroll on the table, “There _has_ to be a money trail, somewhere.”

“I thought so too,” Sakura agrees and presses her temples, “We have two possible money trails that do not make sense. One in Kumo for the banned weapons. There’s another trail in Mist that Chojuro is still waiting on about the leak and the unknown money trail for the Mizuchi.”

“They could be isolated issues,” he points out and tilts his head, “They don’t necessarily have to overlap.”

“If Naruto can verify that Kumo isn’t involved with the Mizuchi, then that’s a separate issue,” she argues. “Kumo can be up to something completely off the wall, and when Chojuro’s traps snap shut, that’s when we can strategize.”

“Time,” The Yondaime breathes shakily, “That’s what it comes down too.”

“I hate being patient,” Sakura rubs her temples at the sudden headache, “I feel like I could be doing more.”

Minato’s fingers tangle in her hair, blunt nails scrape her scalp in random, dizzying patterns, she can’t help the hum that vibrates up her throat and leans into his shoulder when he massages her temples. He chuckles lightly at her smoothened expression and languid form.

“If you keep doing that I’m going to fall asleep,” she mumbles, adjusts her position until her back is half in his chest, and her head is against his clavicle.

“Why are you so tired, Hokage-sama? You look so exhausted,” he chuckles when she slaps his knee.

“I wonder _why_ I’m so tired,” Sakura frowns and flushes at the same time; it’s an endearing quality, he realizes.

“I didn’t hear any complaints,” Minato rolls starlight orbs.

There’s a knock at the door and she groans, “Sasuke has such terrible timing.”

Sakura sits up, “Come in.”

“Sakura,” Sasuke greets and nods at the Yondaime.

“Sasuke,” she starts off and runs a hand through her hair, “I’m not going to beat around the bush.”

He raises a dark brow.

“I’m making you my right-hand,” Sakura declares boldly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	20. uranus

“You,” Sasuke’s eyes widen and he takes a step back in disbelief, “You want me to _what?_ ”

“I want you to be my right-hand,” Sakura repeats a matter-of-factly, and Minato shifts in his chair on her left.

“Why?” he asks bluntly.

The confusion wraps around Sasuke’s brain like a gloved hand. It takes hold of him, grips him, and leaves him to search for even ground. The last time he had a full conversation with Sakura, was, he can’t remember actually. He hasn’t had a full one-on-one conversation with her because he’s been so ashamed of _failing_ her.

He sees the marks on her skin, when she moves her hair to the side or when she fixes the collar of her haori. He can’t burn the picture out of his head any more than he can blur the lines of those whip marks marred on her skin; something tells him that she wouldn’t appreciate it anyway. Sakura has always been that one person that causes him to feel _guilt,_ that invokes remorse and regret inside him.

It’s her voice that has been his conscience, for as long as he can remember.

“Because I need you,” she says and curls her fingers against the cup of tea, “I know what you’ve been doing since Mist. With the hunting and resources. Kakashi purposefully kept you in the shadows, I know, I never acknowledged it because I wanted you to tell me on your own, but I can’t wait for that,” she shakes her head, “Naruto is out of the village and Sai is running ANBU. I’m appointing you right-hand until the end of my reign.”

Sakura doesn’t think she’s ever seen Sasuke so stumped before.

Kakashi has had a lot of trust in Sasuke since the beginning, mostly because he saw him in Sasuke and Sakura always thought that was a pitiful analogy, but even as time passes Kakashi still thought of Sasuke as that; even when he was on the wrong path.

It might have stung later when she realized that even the botched mission Kakashi still _trusted_ Sasuke.

But, she knows now, that Kakashi _understands_ Sasuke and that’s a lot different than trust.

“You’re not going to stay Hokage for long,” Sasuke says suddenly, curiously.

“No,” Sakura agrees and grabs a scroll from Minato’s side of her desk, “Naruto is halfway there.”

He nods, “Very well.”

She blinks.

Honestly, Sakura expected a lot more hostility, an argument at most, and maybe more of an explanation that would allow her response to sound like praise, but not acceptance. Maybe it’s the cynical part of her that expected more. She looks at him curiously, Sasuke has changed, _a lot_ and she wonders when she had missed it.

“We have confirmed, through various channels, that the Mizuchi is indeed a group of mercenaries,” Minato decides to speak this time and watches him carefully, “According to the report ANBU headhunters gave us, five of the ten official members were annihilated by your hand.”

“This was verified?”

Sakura answers, “Yes.”

Sasuke nods and it’s like a weight falls off his shoulders, “Only half, officially, are left now. I assume that you will be sending scouts to look for trails.”

“No,” she denies surprisingly, “Until we figure out where the financial records are we aren’t doing anything. I’m waiting on a progress report from Chojuro in the meantime.”

“So what do you want me to do?” he quirks a brow.

“Nothing,” Sakura smiles sweetly.

Sasuke stares at her blankly, “Nothing?”

“Nothing,” she affirms and then adds, “For now.”

“You called me in to appoint me as your right-hand, but you have nothing for me to do?”

Minato shakes his head.

“That’s not what I said,” Sakura corrects and tosses him a scroll, “You work best in the shadows, Sasuke. I need you to follow-up with Shikamaru on the _who-should-be-dead_ but isn’t list.”

“And then?”

“And then you take them out,” she narrows her eyes at that and leans in her chair, “I’m not going to take any chances. The quicker when crossing out the choices, the possibilities, the fewer paths we have to take. Head to Jounin HQ. This was Shikamaru’s last assignment before his appointment.”

Sasuke has a question formulating in the back of his throat, but he swallows it and dismisses himself.

“What are you planning?” Minato asks after the last Uchiha leaves her office.

Sakura sighs, “After this? I don’t know. I’m all out of ideas,” she sinks into her chair and drops her head to her desk, “I had a good run.”

He huffs a laugh of amusement, “Sakura, you still have a long way to go.”

“Lunch?”

“Ino’s waiting for you.”

—

Curry.

This is what Sakura needs on a day where she feels stagnant, thrumming with contentment, but weary. She blames Minato partly for her tiredness, but the second part of the night was on her. She takes a bite of her potato and winces when the steam of the vegetable hits the roof of her mouth.

“So?” Ino demands and takes a mouthful of salad into her mouth.

“It’s hot,” Sakura winces and takes a sip of water.

She makes a noise of exasperation and anticipation, “I’m not talking about the food!”

She laughs and grabs a spoonful of rice, “I know.”

Ino glares at her.

Sakura waves her hand, “Ask,” she glances at the restaurant, “Discreetly.”

“The Yondaime,” she hisses and then looks at her strangely, “How long?”

“I thought Shikamaru explained all of this to you,” she frowns and mixes her curry.

“He explained the logistics,” Ino rolls her eyes and picks up a cucumber, “You know the ninjutsu equation and the spiritual energy; basically he explained that the Yondaime was stuck in a summoning jutsu.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Sakura agrees and takes a spoonful of curry, “He was bound to me the way a summon works.”

“And this was from the mission in Whirlpool?”

“Yeah,” she chews slowly, “I’m starting to put the pieces together, but there’s a lot of missing information. For example, those nin that tried to drag Miyagi out of the hospital were the same nin who tried to take the demon-chakra scroll, which was the Fourth.”

“The same nin?” Ino says slowly and decides to abruptly, douse her leafy greens in dressing, “They looked like unmarked ANBU.”

“Mercenaries,” Sakura corrects and nibbles on a potato, “I was going to brief you later, but I’ll do it now. Minato was able to verify that they were indeed mercenaries, there’s another power being in play. I left some false trails, two true ones and only will show up as the real path,” she hates to speak in riddles but sometimes it works, “They used raw yang energy, not in a form of attack of defense but pure energy to pull Minato out of me.”

“Well, yin and yang energy are opposites,” the blonde explains and takes a sip of her water, “Even though they attract with each other, they also repel when the forms aren’t the same. It’s the same thing with my mind-control jutsu. If they aren’t a compatible medium, like spirit to spirit, it won’t take to that form, but if they are mind to body then it will take.”

“I don’t understand,” the Hokage wrinkles her nose.

“Spirit to spirit, same medium, it won’t take, because there can only be one mind,” Ino declares, “Spirit to mind can, because one mind and one body. The mind transfer jutsu, theoretically, is supposed to work with everyone, but each jutsu has their limits.”

“And only Yamanaka can use this jutsu,” Sakura states carefully.

“Yes, it has to do with the yin and yang balance,” she explains, “Anyway, if bound by Yin energy, it only makes sense that Yang energy will be the only thing that pulls it out. I would say that the person who shot pure Yang energy, is part of a clan or has some unique kekkai genkai. It’s not impossible, but it’s rare.”

Sakura thinks on that, she never considered the attraction toward the two energies, but it does simplify the explanation and makes it a bit easier to understand—on the other hand, it’s common sense. Opposites attract, so why shouldn’t it work?

“I’ll have Minato take point on that,” she says more to herself.

“Minato?” Ino frowns.

“The Yondaime,” Sakura corrects.

She raises blonde brows at that, “So, how long?”

“I’ve been stuck with him for almost a year,” she says and takes another scoop of her lunch, “It was really weird at first. I could only see him in the mirror before our chakra completely merged and then—”

“Sakura,” Ino stops her and then narrows her eyes, “How long have you been in love with him?”

Sakura halts, abruptly, violently and looks at her best friend with wide eyes. She frowns and shakes her head, “I am _not_ —”

“Who are you trying to convince, Sakura?” she raises a brow and puts her fork down, “Me or you?”

Sakura presses her lips together and looks down to her half-empty plate. She confesses, “I don’t know. He’s always been with me, even when I didn’t want him to be and it just happened.”

“I guess it’s hard to not fall in love with someone who’s been with you in your worst and best moments,” Ino muses thoughtfully and takes another bite of her salad, “And he was with you, for that week in Wave?”

She inhales deeply and takes a sip of her water. After a moment she reveals softly, “I really don’t know what I would’ve done if he wasn’t with me.”

Ino gives her hand a squeeze, she gives her a soft smile, and then it morphs into a wicked grin, “It doesn’t help that he’s _really_ hot.”

Sakura scowls despite her reddening cheeks, “Ino- _pig_!”

“Oh? I didn’t know you were the jealous type,” she laughs and dodges the napkin that Sakura tosses at her.

“Shut _up,_ ” she groans and presses her hands to her cheeks, “It’s just—it’s a lot right now. After my coronation, I haven’t exactly talked to him about whatever this is, things just kept happening and I’m trying to handle it.”

The Yamanaka nods understandingly, “You know, I’m not going to admit how strange it is that you’re dating Minato-sama, who is Naruto’s father.”

Sakura gives her a deadpanned look.

“Oops,” Ino smiles innocently, “Too late, I did. Although he’s _nothing_ like Naruto,” she pauses, “Except for the coloring, but his face and his personality? I don’t see it.”

“I _know_ ,” she sighs and eats another bite of her lunch, “It’s weird, but it’s not? Naruto and Minato don’t even have the same eye coloring—like that’s his kaa-san’s face. Minato is the same _age_ as us and it’s just,” she sighs before smiling, “And I don’t think I’ve ever met someone like him before.”

“I’m not shaming you or anything, Sakura,” the blonde pats her hand and then grins, “I’m just glad to see you happy.”

“Thanks, pig,” Sakura smiles lazily.

“Though, I’m still pissed that you didn’t _tell_ me he was _alive,_ ” Ino scowls and then stabs her lettuce, “And then he just walked in like—”

“The look on your face was worth it,” Sakura snickers and takes a bite of her cucumber, “I didn’t tell anyone actually. Not yet, I need to figure out to pull it off as a political move rather than a surprise.”

“Not everything is about politics, Sakura,” she frowns.

“I’m Hokage, Minato is the Yondaime, Kakashi is the Rokudaime and Tsunade-sama is the Godaime,” she points out even though she doesn’t know what point she’s trying to make. She’s skipped a few steps, “I have to play this out carefully. I can’t give the _Mizuchi_ another target.”

_I can’t allow them to put their hands on Minato._

“You can’t protect him from everything,” Ino replies with displeasure, “Even though you want to.”

“I have to try,” she retorts.

“Does Naruto know?”

“About Minato and I? No,” Sakura shakes her head, “We haven’t even talked about it or anything.”

“That you’re what dating?” Ino asks curiously.

She wrinkles her nose at the title, “I don’t think _dating_ is the right word.”

It’s a bit more serious than that, Sakura thinks. There hasn’t been a whole lot of _verbal_ communication, with definitions pertaining to them at least, and she thinks she has a lot of other things to deal with and problems to address. Agonizing over what they are, who he is to her, and what she is to him, seems a bit unimportant in the grand scope of things. There are more important things, she muses.

There was a part of her, that was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, considering who Minato is and what his connections were—then there’s the whole dead but not really sort of issue. Sakura could worry about it, she could go back and forth, on her own moral conscience, how it would look, what people would say, but, if Sakura had to be selfish, at least once, it would be with Minato.

Because she knows in her _bones,_ that she will never, ever, consider anyone but him.

Minato has broken past barriers that even _she,_ hasn’t come to terms with and has accepted them as his own. He has accepted her beyond reason, beyond logic and beyond concern. He has never once looked at her as if she is nothing, but goodness and hope. He took her demons in as his own and held her hand throughout every problem, every complication, and every backfire that has been thrown her way.

He never once looked at her differently.

It would be impossible to _not_ fall in love with him.

Sakura won’t cause herself that agony by delaying the inevitable and she knows it’s mutual because that is called trust.

—

_Mission 40343_

_Category: Infiltration, Diplomatic, and Investigative._

_Rank: S_

_Date: N/A_

_Shinobi: Naruto Uzumaki_

_—_

_Sakura-chan, I know this is supposed to be written in report form, but I don’t exactly have a lot of time. The education system in Kumo is terrible. The examinations are chunin-level and the techniques are at best B-rank. Even the bastard would be disgusted. Darui has mentioned that his counselors had more of a hand in the curriculum rather than the Raikage. I guess that’s about to change._

_As for the weapons shop, the money trail is not by paper, it’s by mouth. Apparently, everything in that shop is done without a record, just cash._

_Sasuke has a contact near Iwa, if I can get him to manage a transaction, I can see where the word of mouth leaves us. Because what it’s telling me, is that there might be some Mizuchi members residing right under Darui’s nose._

_And if you love me, please send me some ramen._

_I’m tired of the potatoes._

_—Naruto_

—

“If you were a mercenary,” Sakura eyes twinkle at Minato and she marks off some paperwork, she continues dramatically, “On the run, hiding in a foreign country because your government is hunting for your unruly blonde head, where would you hide?”

Minato raises a brow, eyes alight with humor, and a half-smile twitches at the corner of his lips, “Unruly, really?”

She rolls emerald orbs, “Humor me.”

“If I were a mercenary,” Minato puts down his pen and considers the question, “I would hide in plain sight.”

Shikamaru stares at him from his clipboard, “In plain sight?”

“Living in abandoned places or even ones rumored to be haunted is as obvious as it’s not,” the Yondaime explains and Sakura places her feet in his lap from under her desk, “No one will think about going to a haunted place or even someplace abandoned until the question of where to look comes up. The probability of people living in those places is just as high as say someone living in a basement.”

Sakura frowns, “That’s a bad analogy.”

Minato digs his thumb into her sole, she flinches at the sudden pressure, her hips jerking and knee cocked backward into a kicking position. He apologizes with a gentle rub and she narrows her eyes at him in irritation. He ignores her but chastises her with soothing circles, “As I was saying. When nin go into hiding, the people who are searching for them often go to the places that are abandoned. Most of the time those nin are there, but the powerful ones are not.”

“So it depends on how high of a threat the nin are?” Shikamaru asks thoughtfully.

“That and how intelligent they are,” he adds, “Judging by the fact that we don’t have the names of the remaining _Mizuchi_ and if there are more than five, I would say they aren’t going to be in abandoned buildings.”

Sakura mulls around that, “It’s a fifty-fifty shot.”

“Essentially,” Minato agrees and traces her ankle.

“We might still have to send people though,” Ino interjects after filing some last-minute documents, “Just in case. It’s the protocol when it comes to missing shinobi.”

“Missing shinobi yes, but it does not address counterterrorism,” the Hokage corrects but then nods, “But we might as well do it, just to be sure.”

“Are we officially hunting the Mizuchi?” Shikamaru asks suddenly.

“Yes,” Sakura confirms, “We are officially hunting the Mizuchi. Once we get confirmation to the money trail and some clear-cut intelligence, then I will make a formal announcement to Konoha nin. Chojuro has made his announcement nearly two months ago, but we stayed silent. I can’t show my hand. Not just yet.”

“What is exactly your hand?” Ino wonders with amusement.

Shikamaru shoots her a look and tells the Hokage, “I have Sasuke chasing down some leads; assassinations.”

“The list?”

He nods.

“Good,” Sakura nods and looks over at the bank statements, “Make sure he _confirms_ his kills this time.”

Ino rolls his eyes, “For a _prodigy,_ he sure is reckless.”

“Careless,” Minato affirms and rolls Sakura’s ankle between his fingers. “Though, he is useful once he follows direction.”

The Hokage suppresses a snort at his thinly-restrained annoyance for the Uchiha. She’s not sure she’s ever heard Minato _annoyed_ – with someone other than herself – at someone. He’s cordial to _Orochimaru_ of all people, and that tells her that it might be something deeper than her shared history with Sasuke.

“Where would you hide if you were a mercenary?” Minato suddenly asks Sakura and the tone in his voice prompts her to look at him.

Starlight-colored orbs capture her attention, her silence for a few heartbeats and Sakura blinks, shattering the moment with the mere flutter of her lashes. “I don’t think I could hide in plain sight. My hair would give it away and dyeing it for years would do nothing other than damaging my brain. I can’t use chakra to conceal my appearance without suppressing it forever and that’s self-explanatory. I would hide in a shrine.”

Minato blinks this time, “A shrine?”

“It’s a holy place. No one thinks a nin would hide in such a holy place, it would _spell_ disaster,” she shrugs, “But a mercenary is loyal to money, they have no need for the Gods or good fortune; they make their own. Then again, only certain nin would hide in a shrine.”

“That takes courage,” the Yondaime says after a bit, “To hide in a shrine where they could be cursed?”

“If they believe in curses,” Sakura points out and stamps approved on the last document, “Besides, they get free food, housing, supplies, and a place to sleep. It seems pretty set and go.”

“It also feels wrong,” Ino shudders in distaste.

“You’re a ninja,” Shikamaru states with incredulity.

“I have my morals, Shika!”

Sakura shakes her head and looks down at the paperwork for the global medical program. They’re looking at an influx of medical students from across the globe, the immigration office will have their hands full with the sudden spike in population due to international students and she hopes they have enough teachers to help out. Shī will be holding at least five lectures per week to get to as many students as possible, Ino will be holding three lectures – her time spent with her Genin team that she has _yet_ to meet will take precedence – Shizune-senpai and Tsunade-sama will be handling all the advanced class.

She thinks she can hold a lecture or two in her week, she’ll have to ask Shikamaru to reorganize her schedule, however.

“The paperwork for the global medical project is finished,” Sakura announced with mild disbelief, “How?”

“Shī really came through,” Ino interjects helpfully and shrugs, “He’s been reworking the manual since day one. We’re ready to start announcing and sending applications.”

“Send Shī in,” she orders immediately and hands her the binder, “Fast-forward this to the Tsunade-sama and give immigration a heads-up. You can go back to your team activities, Ino. You did well.”

Ino beams, “Why _thank you,_ Hokage-sama! What should I tell him?”

Sakura raises a brow, “That I want a report?”

“Right,” she nods and then takes her leave, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Forehead!”

Shikamaru shoots Sakura a look, “You did that on purpose.”

“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” Sakura replies dramatically and rolls her shoulders back, “I’m going to make him a double-agent.”

“And how exactly are you going to do that?” Minato frowns.

“If what Ino and Naruto said is correct,” she starts, pulling down her shirt until she has enough cleavage to be considered _interested_ – the blonde stiffens at this – and adjusts her hair until it falls over her shoulders, “I won’t have to do much.”

The silence that falls over the office is but suffocating and uncomfortable, even Shikamaru squirms in his seat, seemingly wanting to run out of the office because the situation is as follows: Hokage vs. Hokage, but can also be dubbed as, The Yellow Flash vs. Sakura-hime, or, what Shikamaru sees, a lover’s tiff.

Minato pins her to the chair with ice-blue chips and Sakura stares at him with exasperation lined in those jade orbs of hers. She doesn’t back down, she challenges him, even with her feet still on his lap – the _balls_ on Sakura is just incredible – and tilts her head.

Sakura is so _dangerous_ that it makes Shikamaru wilt a little.

That, combined with Minato’s fixed adoration on her person that borders on obsessive, is simultaneously horrifying as it is cute.

They both of them may not have addressed it, but it’s plain to anyone with _eyes,_ how they feel about each other.

Then the knock at the door cuts through the atmosphere cleanly and Shikamaru could almost kiss the door in relief.

Sakura sits up, removes her feet from Minato, arches her back until her shoulders are sitting underneath her chest and her posture is almost inviting. Minato’s jaw flexes at that and he straightens up in his seat. She orders, “Enter.”

Shī walks into the room with raised brows, but his eyes lock on Sakuras'.

“I heard you put quite a dent in the medical project,” Sakura starts off and leans forward, “Care to explain?”

Shī’s gaze drops to her chest for the briefest moments, “Is that what I’m here to do?”

“Officially? No,” she shakes her head and leans into her chair, “You’re supposed to _teach,_ the implementation is done through Konoha administration. I won’t say that your help isn’t appreciated or that it will go unnoticed. However,” she glances down at her clipboard, “However this is _weeks_ of paperwork, I would like to know if there is a reason you’re rushing it. I saw some mistakes.”

A lie, but Sakura spent enough time with Kakashi to know when to lead her prey into a trap.

“Mistakes?” Shī scoffs and looks at the clipboard on her desk, “Where?”

Well, she didn’t expect that. She shakes her head and runs around the bend, “Some of the finances. I sent them to accounting. We do have a budget you know and some techniques for one, we have different methods. They aren’t major mistakes, but this is a Konoha-based program. Tsunade-sama has to give the final approval.”

“You thought my bone-healing attraction was brilliant,” he points out with a frown.

Sakura hesitates over that and bites her tongue at the slip-up, “It is, but Tsunade-sama still needs to give the approval.”

“You’re Hokage,” Shī says flatly.

“We have a separation of powers for a reason,” she replies firmly, it’s not obviously held because Konoha has a militaristic government but there is a power shift with her being Hokage and well, the best medical ninja in the world. Obviously, her master would get the first pickings, but pitting them against each other is a genie she can’t put back in the bottle.

“In retrospect, we believe that your advances will help speed up the timing and admissions part of the program,” Minato interjects smoothly. “Our main goal is to have more institutions placed in different countries to help promote better global health and encourage more medical ninja. Medical shinobi are indispensable and are essential to not just the ninja, but humanity.”

Sakura can only wonder at Minato’s diplomatic skills, he’s so very calm with his blue eyes and expressionless face, but the way his fingers curl into the edge of his chair tells her that he’s just as human as her. She covers a smile with her hand and lets the Yondaime play it out. It could be seen, to other people, that Minato was speaking out of line, exerting power that he doesn’t have and dealing with issues that are not necessarily his to deal with.

But she thinks that she’s met her equal.

Because it’s like this:

Sakura could be dead to the world – physically and metaphorically – and Minato would do all the things she would do, and wouldn’t even have to consult her. She doesn’t have to worry about him speaking out of line, escalating issues, or even careless with speaking. It’s not even because he was a Hokage, it’s because he holds the same values and morals as she does.

The trust and faith that she has in Minato is _terrifying._

But she loves it so very _fiercely._

“Here’s the deal,” Sakura decides to put a pin in the diplomatic approach, because Shī hates politics as much as she does, but she can play the game and he can’t. So she’ll use that to her advantage, “I want to know what Darui is planning.”

Shikamaru looks at her in disbelief.

Minato almost gapes at her.

Shī’s eyebrow rise past his hairline, “Darui is busy with redoing the education program, you sent the Kyu—Naruto to help.”

Minato narrows his eyes at that.

“Don’t play this game with me, Shī,” Sakura sighs and crosses her arms underneath her chest, “I _know_ you and I also know that Darui has a secondary motive. So cut to the chase will you?”

Shī bites his lower lip and then takes a more casual stance, “He thinks that Konoha has something with the Mizuchi.”

“You have got to be fucking with me,” Minato swears and Sakura _swears_ to all the Gods in the world that the ache in between her hips has _risen_ from the pits of—

“—do you not know who Sakura—Hokage-sama is?” Shikamaru rises from his seat in disbelief and it’s sweet that he’s concerned, “She’s been kept captive by these _monsters_ and you’re going to stand there and tell me—”

“—it’s what the council believes,” Shī cuts him off and grimaces apologetically at Sakura, “Which is why Darui told me to go. He’s receiving pressure from the Elders because he’s so young, though, I am here to _help_ with the medical program.”

“But they wanted you to spy on me too,” Sakura finishes for him and shakes her head, “They know you had relations with me, and that a diplomatic mission would cover it, but why did they send _you_? You’re too important to be released to Konoha—you were the Chief of Medicine! There are plenty of other medical ninjas that I’ve fought with from Kumo. It doesn’t make sense why they would risk a high-value ninja to Konoha for a _program_ of all things.”

Shī stares at her for a moment, then, he walks to her desk slowly, so slowly it could be considered hesitation, and puts his hands on the table. He tilts his head, “Who do you really think I’m here for?”

_Fuck._

Shī didn’t say _what._

He said _who._

Ino and Naruto were _right._

“Sakura is very much aware of your intentions though she does not address them because she’s too polite to call you out on your advances,” Minato declares flatly and fixes him with hurricane-colored orbs, “However, I am _not._ ”

Shī flickers coal-colored eyes to him and then frowns, “And who are you?”

Shikamaru slaps a hand over his forehead and exhales, “Can you really not recognize the Yondaime in front of your own face?”

The Kumo nin’s eyes widen at that and then he pulls back to stand up straighter, “I thought you were dead.”

“So did I,” he replies darkly.

Sakura clears her throat, “I just need a formal report by the end of the day, as for the spying aspect,” she frowns, “Tell the Raikage and his council that we caught a break on a lead.”

Shī’s eyes widen, “You did?”

“You’re also going to tell them that Sasuke is chasing them down and that the medical program will be starting next week,” she doesn’t wait, “Dismissed.”

The Kumo nin looks at her for a moment, swallows, and then nods before leaving.

“You’re going to force Kumo to intercept Naruto,” Minato comments abruptly and looks at her with sharp eyes.

“No,” Sakura shakes her head, “Darui won’t allow it, but if word gets out that we found a lead and Sasuke is after them—someone is _bound_ to make a mistake. Naruto will catch it first and Chojuro will tell me if the bait has been taken, but Sasuke, Sasuke is still cleaning up house.”

“That’s if the leads take us to Kumo or Mist,” Shikamaru points out.

“It’s one of them,” she says firmly.

Minato furrows his brows, “How can you know?”

“I feel it,” Sakura breathes.

—

“I want _tempura,_ ” Sakura raises her arms above her heads in a stretch and then covers her mouth to hide a yawn.

“You _always_ want tempura,” Minato replies with mild amusement.

“But tempura is _great,_ ” she argues and smiles at the vendors down time square that bow to her, “And they even have udon!”

“Udon does sound good,” he agrees and loops her arm with his until her fingers hold onto his forearm securely, “What about gyoza?”

“I ate my weight in gyoza yesterday,” Sakura huffs and points to a clothing shop, “I have to get fitted for another kimono for the fall festival and you _still_ have to go shopping.”

Minato sighs, “I _hate_ shopping.”

“So do I,” she points, “It’s a necessary evil.”

“Shikamaru got me enough clothes,”

“Three pants and three shirts aren’t enough,” Sakura whacks him on the arm and grins, “I’m so glad I can touch you now.”

Minato winces and rubs his arm, “So you can abuse me?”

“Are you _complaining_?” she asks dramatically.

He grabs her arm again, this time, he lets his fingers slide down her wrist until they’re tangled with her fingers and grins, “Not in the slightest.”

The downtown square isn’t a long walk, but it sure feels like it when more and more citizens litter the streets. Most of them, are strangely eyeing her and Minato. Their expression range from shock to disbelief and she frowns, “Why is everyone staring?”

Minato stares at her and stops in the middle of the street. Then, he barks out a laugh and starts walking again with her.

“What?” Sakura demands.

He looks at her with laughter dancing in his sapphire orbs, his dimple twitching against his cheek, and replies, “You do realize that I’m alive now, right?”

She rolls her eyes, “Well obviously but what does that have—”

And then she stops abruptly.

Sakura slaps her forehead and whimpers in her chest, “ _Oh my god.”_

Minato’s grin just gets better and better, “And everyone can see me too.”

“ _Oh my fucking—”_ Sakura’s cheeks darken and she can’t believe she _forgot_. “I can’t believe I forgot to give a formal announcement.”

He laughs again at that and tugs her along the village path, “I was waiting for you to catch on.”

“Please, I’m trying to hide my _face_.”

“Your face is on the mountain, no amount of hiding is going to fix that,”

“Shut up, Minato.”

Dinner, fortunately, isn’t far away. The tempura shop is actually a part of a bigger restaurant, with private booths in the back of the eatery and with their ANBU guards shadowing them—it’s not the most flexible location for their security protocol, but Sakura and Minato are Hokages for that reason.

“I can’t believe you didn’t notice,” Minato teases her once they take their seats and adores the way her cheeks burn with embarrassment.

She almost pouts, “It slipped my mind, okay.”

“I saw,” he laughs again when she does pout this time.

Sakura rolls her eyes and sips her tea, “Have you been here before?”

“Kumiko’s? I’ve been to their franchise in the western district, it was a stall though, nothing like this place,” Minato replies and refills their cups.

“Well,” she starts theatrically and points to the screen on the right, “Thanks to technology, we order on this screen here and the waiters bring out the food when it’s ready.”

“Science really is _something,_ ” he hums and scrolls through the page, “Innovation I think, will be a big thing.”

“It already is,” Sakura shrugs and taps on the plate of shrimp, “Hikaru’s invention is already in the development stage, once it hits the market, the economy is going to spike.”

“We can cut the taxes then,” Minato considers the benefits and orders two bowls of kake udon, “And we can rebuild back our funds with whatever is put in the economy.”

“Give and take,” she agrees and taps on a plate of squash, “Everything is just…”

“A waiting game,” he finishes for her and taps on a bowl of fried rice.

Sakura leans back in her chair and tucks her hair behind her ears, “It’s just a lot to consider, in the long run, I mean.”

“Economical scales are rigged from the beginning,” Minato offers and tucks a hand underneath his chin, “It’s supposed to be in the consumer’s benefit, but the producers have a way of making it work for them.”

She shakes her head, “I’m not very good with economics. I know enough, but I’m not very…versed them.”

“I think you’re doing alright,” he smiles when her lips curl upwards, “Hokage business is no walk in the park.”

“It’s…very complicated,” Sakura chuckles dryly, “I don’t know how Kakashi-sensei did this for so long.”

“Kakashi has quite a bit of patience, now at least,” Minato says thoughtfully, “He was a bit, over-excited when he was young. He always wanted to learn a new jutsu or up his training. He never could sit still.”

She snorts, “Reminds me of quite a few people.”

“Most kids are the same way,” he responds regretfully, “It’s all a part of growing up.”

“A teenage Kakashi doesn’t sound nice.”

“He _wasn’t_ ,”

Sakura laughs again.

When the food arrives, the waitress does a double-take and bows more deeply, more than once. Then she runs back to the kitchen and Minato grimaces, “You never do get used to that.”

“Give her a break,” she rolls her eyes, “You’re _alive._ ”

“Sakura,” he huffs a laugh, “She was looking at _you._ ”

Sakura blinks at that and says, “Oh.”

“Yeah, _oh,_ ” Minato’s eyes twinkle with mirth, and puts a piece of shrimp in her plate, “It’s been what a little over a half-year?”

“Seven months? Almost?”

“People still get starry-eyed by the World’s best medical ninja,”

“I’m also _Hokage,_ ”

“Still pretty amazing, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she laughs when he snorts and chomps on her shellfish, “I’m pretty great.”

Minato takes a bite of his rice and Sakura looks at him strangely. She eyes his chopsticks with curiosity and then glances down at her plate. He frowns, “What?”

“I don’t,” Sakura laughs a little incredulously, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat before.”

Minato takes a minute to come to that conclusion. This is technically the first meal they’ve shared since he was pulled out of her body—like an actual meal. One that’s not a quick shove in the mouth or a snack, one where they sat down, ate, and conversed. He smiles into his rice, “I think this is our first date.”

Sakura rolls that word around in her head.

_Date._

“Is that what this is?” she didn’t mean to say that out loud, but it’s out there now and all she can do is own it.

Minato narrows his eyes at that and lips thin, “What does that mean?”

Sakura can physically _hear_ the warning bells blaring in her head and she clears her throat. She goes for the subtle approach, “Well, you haven’t exactly _asked_ me,” she stumbles because she’s _Sakura_ , “On a date, that is.”

He raises a brow at that and picks up a piece of pumpkin, “I’ve had my mouth on at least every inch of you and I have to ask—”

She clears her throat loudly and hisses, “ _Minato!_ ”

“It’s not like anyone can hear,” Minato rolls his eyes and chews on his pumpkin.

“There’s a term, you know,” Sakura scratches the back of her neck and picks up a bit of rice, “It’s called friends with benefits, where you sort of have a physical relationship, but that’s it.”

He furrows his brows, “That’s it?”

She runs a hand through her hair, “It’s just sex, Minato. That’s what it means. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

Minato freezes and Sakura almost, almost backs away. He places his chopsticks on the table and pins her with icy blue eyes. He asks softly, “Is that what you think? That I’m using you for sex?”

Sakura knows in bother head and her heart, that Minato, when angry, when _furious,_ will never, ever raise his voice. He speaks softly, his voice is _humming_ with chakra and his eyes could stop winter. It doesn’t make him less dangerous, it makes him, _feral_. She breathes, “No. I don’t, but people might and I don’t want them to.”

“Do you care what people think?”

“I care about you,” Sakura declares sternly, then she swallows at the intensity of her voice, “And I don’t want people to—”

Minato cups her face, causing the words to die in the corner of her mouth and he looks at her gently, “Sakura, I know,” he repeats, “I know.”

She almost trembles at the oceans of his eyes.

“But let me take care of you,” he interrupts her before she can even open her mouth, “I know. You don’t need anyone to protect you or save you or even take care of you. I know, but _when_ was the last time someone has ever taken care of you?”

Sakura furrows her brows in thought.

He smiles sweetly and leans over to kiss the corner of her lips, “You take care of everyone but yourself, Sakura. Now eat, you’ve been neglecting your tempura.”

This is not how it was supposed to go. Sakura was supposed to, inadvertently, ask about labels, without really _asking_ about labels, in order to minimize her embarrassment and her lack of experience. Minato was _married,_ and has experience with relationships—she’s just sitting here, fumbling around on uneven ground.

“I miss not being able to hear you think,” Minato frowns and runs a thumb down the corner of her cheek, “Sakura, love, you’re trembling.”

She hates and hates and _hates_ that she can’t control her own emotions.

_Love._

“Talk to me,” he pleads and curls his fingers behind her ear.

“I don’t have much experience with this,” Sakura smiles shyly despite her own fracturing thoughts and feelings, “This, um dating thing.”

“Courting,” Minato corrects her, his thumb rubs over her cheek once more before taking her hand in his, “I know.”

“So I don’t know if I’m doing anything wrong because we haven’t exactly, I mean, talked about—” she almost starts rambling and it’s ironic how tongue-tied she gets when Minato isn’t _in_ her because she certainly didn’t have this problem before—before he could feel all her emotions and her thoughts. She looks down at her plate, things are different now and she’s still learning.

“I know, which is why we’re going to make our own rules,” Minato says firmly and then looks over at their intertwined fingers, “We aren’t a normal couple,” he says that last word awkwardly, “Because we met— _really_ met in a very _peculiar_ way,” he chuckles, “So I don’t think the standard rules are ones for us to follow. I think we’re a little more serious than say _dating_ , right?”

“Yes,” Sakura says immediately.

He nods, “Whatever we’re comfortable with, I think that’s the best way for us to move forward.”

“Yes,” she repeats and then looks at their hands, “Are you okay with people knowing?”

“Are you?”

“I don’t really care,” Sakura finds that she really doesn’t care _what_ people think, but she cares about what they think about _him,_ “It’s not really anyone’s business.”

“It’s not,” Minato agrees and presses his mouth to her wrist, “But if Shī asks, tell him that you’re mine.”

She has to laugh at that, “Tell him yourself.”

His eyes darken at that and he nips her fingertips playfully, but his tone is serious, “Do you really want me to?”

Sakura licks her lips and Minato’s eyes drop to her mouth.

—

“You know,” Sakura looks at the compound very curiously, “I didn’t know Kakashi-sensei moved back into his clan compound.”

“He has two homes,” Minato notes and walks down the garden path, “One when he’s on active duties which is in his apartment and the other is his compound when he’s off-duty.”

“I’ve only known sensei when he’s on _active duty_ or when he’s in the hospital,” she frowns and pokes a rock with her toe, “Never _off_ duty.”

He chuckles and tugs her towards the main house, “He’s very…”

“Lazy?”

“Usually,”

“I know we said that we would let Tsunade-sama deal with him,” Sakura starts off and then cracks her neck, “But I don’t think I have the patience to wait that long.”

“I’ve noticed,” Minato said dryly and dodges her elbow.

“Kakashi-sensei!” she calls out ignoring his pointed look and walks down the hall. She can’t really track his chakra, but his presence is a different thing altogether. The hall in the compound leads to his backyard, stone gray flooring pressed against the grass from the steps of his living room, and leads to a scenery that could rival the Nara forest in terms of trees.

Kakashi looks up from his book, back propped against the weeping willow in the center of the grass, and then cocks a brow, “Hokage-sama and Hokage-sama.”

“Good afternoon to you too, Hokage-sama,” Sakura greets dryly and crosses her arms, “What are you doing?”

“Well, it’s almost night,” Kakashi looks up at the darkening skies and glances at his book, “And you remember Icha Icha, Naruto recently gifted me with the newest book, _Scarlet._ ”

“Do you really think Junko is that important to the plot because I heard that—”

Kakashi makes a sound between one of distress and a hysterical laugh; sort of like Naruto. He glares at her with slate-gray eyes, “Don’t spoil it, Sakura-chan. I won’t fall for it a second time.”

“A second time?” Minato asks curiously.

“Naruto decided that the best way to beat Kakashi-sensei was to spoil his books,” Sakura rolls her eyes and huffs out a laugh, “He lost.”

“I know I taught you better than that, Kakashi,” he rolls blue eyes but grins nonetheless.

Kakashi grumbles, “I _hate_ spoilers.”

“Is that why you haven’t been going to physical therapy?” Sakura raises her brow in irritation, “Your chakra may be shot, but you’re not disabled.”

“I’m just like _Gai_ , now.”

“Is there something _wrong_ with Gai, Kakashi?” Minato prompts and tilts his head tolerantly.

Kakashi rolls his eyes, “Nothing is wrong with _Gai_ , I—”

“—am in love with Aoi-hime, the eldest daughter of the Fire Daimyo, and don’t know how to act,” Sakura finishes for him innocently and then sharpens her smile, “I know.”

Minato whirls his head to look at her.

The Rokudaime stiffens and closes his book, “How—the only person who would even know is _Obito_ , how do you—?”

“Newsflash, Kakashi-sensei,” she snorts unbothered by his sudden stillness, “Women _talk._ ”

He pales.

“Now,” Sakura starts off and rolls her shoulders, “I also know that Mikan-sama would _never_ allow a shinobi—a ninja to marry his daughter. _Never_. But if you’re so keen on being a civilian – judging by the fact you have neglected your physical therapy – you do have a chance to snatch her up. Mikan-sama _does_ like you, after all.”

Minato grabs her shoulder in an attempt to stop her from strong-arming Kakashi and decides to put in his comment before she could overwhelm his student. He clears his throat, “What Sakura means, is go to physical therapy and fix yourself up before you even consider courting Aoi-hime. You’re not going to do anyone favors if you’re still moping around and _ignoring_ medical advice.”

Sakura looks up at him.

“And,” the Yondaime continues and narrows his blue eyes, “If you’re going to have Sasuke in the shadows, you should’ve told Sakura instead of keeping her in the dark. Konoha has enough secrets.”


	21. lunar

Sakura wakes up to the warmth, a warmth that bleeds into a smolder when she reaches the edges of consciousness. It’s a certain type of heat, one that dries her mouth, one that causes her blood to prickle her skin, and the back on her neck to sweat. She squirms on the bed, chasing the edge of a deep, deep sleep, but her legs are pinned to the sides and she arches her hips in an attempt to relieve her frustration.

She can’t move, she whines at the injustice that is her life, slowly, emerald orbs peek at the white of her ceiling and then—

“—oh!” Sakura arches back when hands tighten around her thighs and her hips jerk at each stroke.

“I don’t remember you being such a deep sleeper,” Minato’s voice vibrates against her inner thigh and her fingers curl into the pillow behind her.

“I don’t usually,” she gasps when his tongue rolls down her slit, “Wake up, to a man in between my legs.”

Sakura’s not complaining in the slightest, waking up to Minato’s mouth sealed to her sex are mornings well spent.

He chuckles and curls his tongue around her clit, “Something I should rectify, yes?”

She groans when he slips inside, tongue wiggling, the flexible muscles sinful against the velvet of her walls, a light pressure that keeps her dizzy, dizzier than usual with the black of sleep still clinging to the sides of her eyes, the haze at the back of her mind and the weight in her fingertips. He opens her up, pushing her thighs until they are parallel with her hips and then wraps his lips around the sensitive pearl at the top.

Sakura gasps, she rips off her shirt, tossing it somewhere on the floor, her skin damp with perspiration and the simmering of her own blood. He doesn’t sip on her, he holds her captive in between the tease of his lips and lets his breath caress her as he hums into her.

The vibrations cause her legs to shake in anticipation, lightning curls in her stomach, settling, seeping into her gut and he pulls back to suckle at her clit then. She aches for him, nails biting into the sheets and then he circles her lightly.

“That’s one way to wake up,” Sakura chokes out when she’s finally gathered her thoughts, when he brings her closer and closer to the edge, pores sprouting from the satin of her skin in response, he stops. She’s disorientated, “What—”

Minato licks a line from her pubic mound, the dip in her navel, the elegant line of her sternum, and then pauses to suckle on her nipples. The soft, puckered, touch, is adored by the rough texture at the roof of his mouth, her essence, the silk of her skin is greedily devoured by his tongue and teeth.

She tangles her fingers in the gold of his hair as swallows the other bead and then kisses her thoroughly.

Minato’s fingertips are wicked when they smoothen over her sex, spidery digits barely brush her lips, catching her clit in a sudden stroke of his nail.

“Mean,” Sakura whispers against his lips and nips the underside of his jaw.

“Mean? I went down on you for a half-hour,” he chuckles against her ear and bites down on the lobe.

She moans when he slides two fingers inside and curls upwards, “I was asleep for at least twenty-five of those minutes.”

Minato tastes the skin at her neck and strokes her slowly, “It’s not my fault you didn’t wake up.”

He crooks his fingers, picks up the pace, and presses his lips against her clavicle. He almost misses her sleepy murmur, “Thought I was dreaming.”

The muscles in Sakura’s legs flex as she nears closer and closer to the edge, then, he stops, again. She clenches her teeth, fingers take root in his hair and she pulls him down to hiss, “If you keep edging me I will _hit_ you.”

Minato placates her with a kiss – she goes cross-eyed for a moment and he almost laughs at the adorable confusion that swipes across her face – to the nose and settles on top of her. She parts her thighs unconsciously, trustingly, and kisses her again. He whispers against her mouth, “I want to be inside of you when you come.”

He puts one knee over his shoulder and wraps the other around his waist before he sinks into her.

Sakura arches her back at the stretch, he opens her up by pressing his weight against her form and kisses her again.

Minato moves slow inside of her, thrusting deeply, sluggishly, demanding her to feel every inch of him, the heat that unravels inside her is growing, creeping against her veins and the back of her head. His hands slide up her elbows, encircles around her wrists before interlocking his fingers with hers, and raises them above her head. This angles his hips higher, he sinks in deeper and her toes curl at the depth.

“Look at me, Sakura,” he kisses her harsher this time and leans over her, “Look at me.”

Sakura can barely keep her eyes open, emerald orbs darken to forest-green, glossy and shiny as they try to grasp onto starlight. Her fingernails run a line of red down his back as she squeezes him and exhales, “Faster.”

Minato doesn’t verbally acknowledge her demand, instead, he lets one hand trail downwards to rub light circles around her abused clit and she clamps down on him in response. Keening at the pressure when he grinds down her, nails biting at skin, and she pants, “Close.”

“Tell me,” Minato purrs when she quivers against him and then presses hard onto her clit.

Sakura writhes violently on the bed when her orgasm overwhelms her voice, her body, and her mind. He picks up the pace while she’s in the throes of her peak, he prolongs her pleasure with quick snaps of the hips, a rougher pace, and gentle kisses on her cheeks. She inhales greedily for air when the flash of light passes, she’s lax, and twitchy when he slows down to accommodate her greedy cunt.

“You okay?” he whispers against her lips and repositions her. His elbows hold her knees now and the angle is sharper, sweeter when he grinds into her.

“Fuck,” Sakura swears harshly, she releases Minato’s hands to claw at the sheets, he doesn’t have it though, he chases her hands and keeps her pinned to the bed. She whines into his mouth, “I have to _walk,_ you know.”

“Can you give me one more?” Minato asks and drops a chaste kiss up her jawline to the corner of her mouths.

“Minato,” she breathes into a shuddering whimper and pushes his hand from her clit, “I don’t know if I can—sensitive.”

“Yes,” he agrees and presses down her stomach to feel her quiver against him. He picks up the pace this time, angling his hips to catch that spot inside her that causes her to writhe and her eyes to tear up. His fingers take root in her hair, he pulls her head back until his lips ghost over her mouth in a mock tease and he takes in her form with pride.

Sakura’s skin is tinted with pink, a ruddy brush that darkens at her cheeks, rose-colored lips part, they are abused and rough from his teeth. But her eyes, her pupils nearly swallow the halo of sea-foam, a silver gloss, shimmery with tears of pained pleasure, and engulfs her with his golden form.

She bites down on her bottom lip and he consumes her mouth with barely any finesse.

“ _Fuck,”_ Minato breathes against her in a quiet hiss, he presses his mouth down her chest, suckling from her nipples, leaving bites across her breasts, traveling back to her mouth, and snap his hips faster. His thumb finding her swollen bundle and he takes her there, wherever they’re going, and anchors her to him, “ _Fuck._ ”

Sakura, vaguely wonders, if Minato knows that him swearing has turned into some kind of fetish she has for him because she clenches down on him automatically and is thrown into an orgasm.

When the sun finally rises and they’re slipping into the afterglow, Minato turns to look at her with calm ocean orbs, “Good morning.”

“If you wake me up like this every day you might kill me,” Sakura murmurs and twists in the sheets.

“You don’t mind,” he chuckles and presses a kiss to her bare shoulder.

“No, I really don’t,” she huffs and presses her fingers against his jaw, “Sometimes I can’t believe you’re real.”

Minato kisses her wrist and breathes, “I know.”

It’s strange, not having him in her head. Sometimes she would want a second opinion and normally, Sakura would ask Minato, no hesitation, and then she realizes that there isn’t _anyone_ in her head. So the mulling of certain thoughts and repetitions fall on dry land. Then sometimes, it’s really not, because now, he’s in front of her. He’s _really_ next to her and she can _touch_ him.

It’s almost too much for her to comprehend.

Minato sees that she’s thinking too hard, so he pulls her on top of him, slick, ready and there’s no more time left to think.

—

“And when did we agree to this?” Sakura stares at Shikamaru in disbelief and looks at the paperwork.

“We didn’t,” he replies tiredly, “The Earth Daimyo just announced that he was scheduling a visit to Konoha, today.”

“What could the Earth Daimyo possibly have need for in _Fire Country,_ ” she asks with incredulity, “Shouldn’t the Tsuchikage be dealing with this?”

“He wants to speak to you,” Shikamaru answers simply and then scratches the back of his head, “About what? He didn’t say.”

“Duration?”

“One night, two days,” he pauses, “And that includes today as well.”

“Is the Tsuchikage hiding something?” Minato asks from her desk – he’s taken to dragging a desk to sit next to Sakura and Sakura has taken to letting her feet rest in his lap – and stares at the letter, “We’ve never entertained foreign Daimyos before.”

“It certainly unprecedented,” Shikamaru agrees and then looks at Sakura, “But this entire Kageship is unprecedented.”

“Shika has a point,” Sakura muses and sighs, “Alright, set up a hotel for him. Get me Hinata-chan and see what you can dig up on Kurotsuchi. I can’t have other countries acting up, it’s going to make me and the world paranoid.”

“Why Hinata?” Minato asks curiously when Shikamaru sends out the summon.

“Because Hinata is a Hyuuga,” she says obviously and rejects the second pile of papers, “Hinata has the etiquette, she’s diplomatic and she’s well-mannered in versing with nobles and higher-powers. I trust her and I don’t want to spread Ino too thin; she has enough on her plate.”

“You’ve never included her before,”

“I don’t like pulling her into politics,” Sakura explains and sighs, “Her clan is already pressuring her to marry and Naruto isn’t exactly _Hyuuga_ material. Which is fine, because she’ll be an Uzumaki if they do decide to get married, but I don’t want to put her in hot water with her clan. But I trust her and I need her right now.”

“The Elders would want to be pulled in the loop,” the Yondaime reads in between the lines and scribbles down something on a piece of paper, “They think with recent instability that you would be going to them for counsel.”

She snorts, “The only time I’d go to them for _counsel_ is when I’m dead and need help from beyond the grave.”

Minato tugs on her hair and scowls, “That wasn’t nice.”

“You weren’t nice this morning either,” Sakura smiles sweetly when he flushes and looks back at her paperwork, “Have you figured out _why_ you’ve gotten a body?”

Shikamaru decides to jump in, “Actually, I have a theory about that.”

Minato looks at him.

“I think because Minato-sama was pulled out using Yang energy, which is _physical_ energy, the jutsu manifested his body from the elements needed to anchor him to earth,” he explains.

Sakura tilts her head, “Is—Is that it?”

“It’s less complicated than say the reanimation jutsu, that’s for sure, but remember we’re dealing with _raw_ unconverted yang energy, which is rare on its own,” Shikamaru shrugs, “I mean we could rewrite the original scroll and put the last summoning seal on it, but that most likely will put him _back_ in the scroll and then we’re back to where we started.”

“That and we don’t have any of his chakra left,” she retorts and presses against the seals next to her eyes, “I mean whatever chakra I absorbed converted to merge with my chakra system.”

“We could talk to Orochimaru—”

“No,” Sakura and Shikamaru answer simultaneously.

Minato rolls his eyes, “The man was obsessed with immortality at one point, he’s the only one that would have a better understanding, no offense Shikamaru, about me being alive.”

“I would rather give Sasuke my left arm than even _look_ at that man,” Sakura scowls and stamps an approval on a mission report. “I don’t understand how the village can just _welcome_ him back after—”

Shikamaru winces in sympathy at the next slam of the stamp; Orochimaru just brings back bad memories. That and it was a constant reminder of the Forest of Death and Konoha Crush. He looks down at his clipboard, “Anyway the Daimyo is set to arrive at Konoha gates within the hour, after the appointment, you have to listen to the petitions in the civilian district, followed by lunch with Lee, and your first lecture for the global medical program which will end office hours.”

“Lee?” Minato furrows his brows.

“I have a training session with him,” Sakura rolls his eyes and hands him a packet, “Before lunch.”

“I thought _we_ were going to lunch.”

“We are going to _dinner,_ ” she corrects him and pokes him with the back of her brush, “I need to get back on the field and you need to practice more.”

Minato looks affronted.

“Do you really think your chakra reserves are going to build back by themselves?” Sakura raises a brow and then pokes his stomach, “And you need to build back your muscle.”

“Are you calling me _soft_?” Minato raises his brows and his mouth parts in disbelief, “Me? The person who taught you the hiraishin.”

“You know, since you didn’t do a formal announcement, a good way to inform the people would be a spar,” Shikamaru interjects and clarifies, “The Yondaime vs. the Nanadaime.”

“The rumors when we went to dinner,” she comments and frowns, “Shouldn’t that already be enough?”

“It’ll boost imagery and show that the Yondaime is still alive and kicking,” The Nara argues and scowls, “Ino would call it _window shopping at a luxury store._ ”

“Oh!” Sakura gasps and then snorts, “Minato isn’t on the market though.”

“What?” Minato frowns at the analogy, “Market?”

Shikamaru blinks and takes a step back in shock, “The two of you are…dating?”

“Courting,” Minato corrects.

“With the intentions of marrying her,” he presses because even though he’s the Fourth and she’s the Hokage, Sakura was his friend first and her well-being is one of his main concerns.

“Eventually,” he says easily and then shoots her a look, “We haven’t spoken about that yet, but that is what _courting_ means, right?”

It’s a thinly-veiled insult wrapped in a question. The intent is blatant, the fact that Minato is offended by the mere idea of someone thinking that he, of all people, would not be a _real_ and _serious_ relationship with Sakura is beyond him. It’s absolutely ludicrous to even _consider_ that Minato—

“—are you going to tell people?” Shikamaru continues to ask and furrows his brows, “It’s not my business, I know, but both of you are public figures. Anything to both of you do will face scrutiny from the public and in private. P&R can handle this but—”

“Shikamaru,” Sakura cuts him off, softly, but firmly, “It is not anyone’s business but my own. I don’t need to address it and Minato doesn’t need to address it. We aren’t going to hide our relationship and we aren’t going to advertise it. We don’t _care_ about anyone’s opinions. I know you’re concerned and I’m very grateful that you care, but—” she licks her lips and doesn’t look at Minato when she says this, “But I’m happy. I’m _really_ happy.”

Shikamaru’s eyes soften at that and then he sighs, “Troublesome, but only if you’re okay with it. I can always stonewall the councilmen and the press.”

“Leave the councilors to the Hokages,” Sakura sniffs, “We have plenty of them to push them around. If they bother you again, tell _me_ and I’ll deal with it.”

“You don’t have to protect me Sakura,” he shakes his head.

“Yes I do,” she tells him firmly and doesn’t take no for an answer when he opens his mouth, “Now, go greet the Daimyo.”

Shikamaru gives her a small smile and bows, “Yes Hokage-sama.”

When the Nara closes the door, Minato all but attacks her with his lips and hands. His fingers taking root in her hair, blunt nails scraping her scalp, tongue curling against her cheek and she loves the sting when he slides down her neck. Teeth nibbling down her jawline and tongue traveling to the hollow in her throat, “You—” he chuckles into her throat, “I don’t have the words to articulate how I feel.”

“It’s a shame you aren’t in me anymore,” Sakura laughs at her own innuendo and squeaks at a hard bite, “Control yourself, Yondaime-sama.”

“It’s hard too,” Minato kisses her deeply, “You always test my patience.”

“Just your patience?” she smirks mischievously and bites on his bottom lip.

“Tease,” he scrapes a line of fire down her throat and presses another kiss to her mouth, “Must you test me so?”

“Yes,” Sakura nods seriously and dissolves into a fit of giggles when blunt fingernails dig into the ticklish space behind her right knee. She jerks against him and he can’t help but kiss her mid-laugh.

A knock on the door breaks through the light atmosphere, he presses another kiss to the corner of her mouth and sits up, as if he isn’t unaffected by the stars in her eyes and the smile against her lip. She rolls her eyes and sits up, “Enter.”

The Earth Daimyo, whom Sakura, or any other Leaf citizen has never met, walks into her office. He’s an old man, with long gray hair, clean-shaven and dark beady eyes. She almost grimaces at his wandering eyes and straightens up. She glances at her clipboard, “Shin-sama, I have to say that this is quite an unexpected visit.”

He waves it off, “Enough of that political bullshit, I’m not here for pleasantries.”

Minato raises his eyebrows at that, “Very well, let’s cut to the chase.”

Shin squints his eyes at him, he has cataracts Sakura diagnoses, and points a cane in his direction, “I know you. Yondaime-sama, is it? Thought you were dead.”

“So did I,” he replies dryly and winces when Sakura slaps his shoulder.

“What can we help you with, Shin-sama?” Sakura decides to take point on the narrative and crosses her fingers on her desk.

“You talk well for someone so young,” he rubs the side of his face and walks closer into the room, “ _We,_ you say, not _I._ I like that.”

Minato narrows his eyes at that.

“Unlike our Tsuchikage who’s pride could rival the great Tsuchigumo,” Shin huffs and frowns, “The brat hasn’t told you I assume or even the rest of the world.”

“Told us what?” Shikamaru prompts from the side.

“There was an attack in Iwa Friday,” he answers curtly and Konoha nin stiffen at that. “Around midnight. Multiple bombings in the mountains, it causes landslides, destroyed two villages and even caused an earthquake. The _Mizuchi_ claimed responsibility.”

Sakura takes a moment to digest that and Minato who is frozen beside her, drops his hands to his lap. “Is this confirmed? How did you come across this information, Shin-sama.”

Shin tosses a crumpled up piece of paper at her, “They sent a messenger. He’s dead. They don’t recognize Kurotsuchi as Tsuchikage.”

She catches it without blinking and glances at the crumpled up piece of paper, “Do you mind if I keep this?”

He snorts, “Go ahead.”

Sakura hands Shikamaru the letter and orders, “Get Ibiki-san to verify this letter, have Genma, Lee, and Kotetsu on standby.”

The Nara nods and disappears.

“Someone who takes charge,” Shin nods in approval, “I do not want Iwa to become the next Kiri. Kurotsuchi biting her tongue and trying to settle the dust doesn’t help anyone.”

“This falls outside your jurisdiction, Shin-sama,” Sakura replies carefully and exchanges a look with Minato, “I am grateful for your information and forthcoming nonetheless. However, it is your Kage that I must discuss this with.”

“I can’t stay silent when I have civilians begging for refuge outside my palace,” he scowls and grips his cane, “The _Mizuchi_ is a global threat and it will continue to remain a threat unless we work together.”

“I agree, Shin-sama,” she acknowledges, “But militaristic decisions fall on a Kage’s shoulders, by provoking the Tsuchikage, you may be enticing a civil war within Iwa. I will speak with Kurotsuchi and if I can’t get through her stubborn head, I’m sure her grandfather will make her see reason.”

Another knock on the door prevents the Earth Daimyo from retorting and Sakura uses that to her advantage, “Enter.”

“Hokage-sama?” Hinata pops her head in before closing the door, “You wanted to see me?”

“Hinata-chan,” Sakura emphasizes her honorific on purpose, “This is the Earth Daimyo, Shin-sama. Shin-sama, this the Hyuuga heiress, Hyuuga Hinata. Hinata will be showing you to your accommodations for you and your entourage. Once I receive information from the Tsuchikage, I will speak with you immediately.”

Hinata sees the hard glint in Sakura’s eyes and ushers the Daimyo out of the room before he could retaliate, “Shin-sama, if you please. We have accommodations near the water and some in the mountains next to the hot springs, which would you prefer?”

Sakura mouths her love for Hinata when she gets him out of the door with a smile and red-tinted cheeks; she gives her a thumbs up and closes the door.

Sakura groans and drops her head to the back of her chair, “What a _mess._ ”

“This mess is getting _bigger,_ ” Minato rubs the bridge of his nose and looks down at the scouting reports, “Three out of the five nations? They’re most certainly targeting all the shinobi countries.”

“If they try Suna or Kumo, we can confirm it,” she replies and grabs a bottle of water from her desk, “Can you send out a memo to Gaara and Darui? I want them to prepare for a surprise attack. We have had enough causalities.”

Minato nods, “How do you want to phrase it?”

“Possible war. Destruction at its finest,” Sakura breathes out sarcastically, “Don’t forget a possible drought.”

He gives her a deadpanned look.

“Or you can deal with Kurotsuchi.”

—

“You know I love your dumplings, Kazui-san,” Sakura takes a dumpling from the paper carton and munches on them happily, “Konoha would be honored to send frozen goods with your trademark on them at the next trade meeting.”

“Which filling do you prefer, Hokage-sama?” Kazui asks with wide eyes and puts another dumpling into her carton.

“I’m partial to the lemongrass,” she smiles and dips the gyoza into her vinegar, “Minato prefers the chive and pork.”

Minato chuckles, “I also like the lemongrass, Kazui-san. What is your most popular seller?”

Kazui grins, “Lemongrass.”

The petitions are going quite smoothly if Sakura has to compare it to anything. Civilians are so much easier to speak to and she doesn’t have to pussyfoot around with any of them. Perhaps, it’s because Minato and Sakura come from a civilian background, that the civilians aren’t as intimidated nor hesitant when speaking to them. Petitions are sort of like a festival, a small one where they sit in one place and vendors or pedestrians come up to them – in an orderly fashion – and speak their mind.

“Our tea business is going under, Hokage-sama,” Another woman comes up to Sakura and she holds a package of red tea leaves, “We’ve been losing profits and haven’t been able to pay our monthly rent.”

Sakura frowns and inspects her tea leaves, “Since when?”

“About two months, our taxes have risen significantly due to the fact that we are a family-owned business,” she replies slowly and looks down at her hands.

The Hokage grimaces.

“If you submit a copy of your financial records and tax records to a government-owned bank we can give you a tax break under the category of exports,” Minato interjects smoothly and then looks over at Sakura, “They still have that, right?”

Sakura nods.

“Red tea, is very rare and it’s not being sold at value. We appreciate that you brought this to our attention, Mira-san,”

Mira, the lady, she assumes, flushes and nods jerkily before high-tailing out of there.

Sakura’s face twists in irritation, but she doesn’t say anything otherwise. Mikan-sama, may have a point.

Minato may be too pretty for his own good.

“Are you alright?” Minato whispers in her ear and her fingers dig into the table to prevent herself from shivering. He sounds concerned, “I didn’t overstep, did I?”

“No, you’re fine,” Sakura shakes her head and lies, “I just have a headache.”

“It’s the salt,” he tucks a strand of pink hair behind her ear and hands her his water bottle, “Drink. You should know better.”

Emerald eyes pin him to his chair and she sips on his water slowly. She uses two fingers and pulls at his cheek, “I _know._ I just want to get these petitions over with, I might not even need to eat lunch with how much food we’re getting.”

She releases his cheek and Minato rubs out the abuse, “It certainly is a lot. I had no idea there were so many restaurants.”

“Um, Hokage-sama,” a thinner woman comes up to her, a farmer by the tan-lines and sturdy hands, “We have quite a surplus of crops and we wanted to know if we can sell our produce abroad.”

“Abroad?” Sakura raises her brows at that, “Are you not selling here?”

“We are, but our harvest is quite much,” she replies. “I would hate to burn them.”

Economics. That’s what it comes down to. Farmers can’t afford to send out crops because it’s too expensive to do so and because crops can rot pretty quickly, they would end up losing money should they burn them. Prices will drop because there is a surplus, that may prove to be beneficial to consumers, but the farmers are the ones who will really feel the hit. Sakura can’t implement a subsidy because of the lack of funds, but what she can do is set up trade routes.

“Visit the ministry of Agriculture and tell them you want to set up an exchange agreement,” Sakura answers and smiles at her lightly, “You can send out your produce to Kiri who _needs_ the food and Mist can give you gold in return. Liquifying the capital may take some time, but when you tell them you want to invoke Fire International Code Twenty-Six, Clause Four, they _should_ pick up the pace. If not, please find me in my office and I will set them straight.”

Her eyes prick with gratitude and she bows, “Thank you, Hokage-sama.”

“Do you know all the laws?” Minato asks with incredulity when the farmer leaves, he’s proud of her and that’s evident in the way he strokes her cheek absently.

“Just the important ones,” Sakura and bites his thumb when it gets too close to her mouth, “How much longer, Shika?”

“You can leave whenever you want,” Shikamaru ignores the disgusting public display of affection and looks over at his clipboard, “We got through a lot of people today.”

“Alright, close up shop,” she groans and stands up, “I need to go break some things.”

Minato comments, “That doesn’t sound appealing.”

Sakura whirls around her head, puts a hand on her hip, and raises a brow, “Do you even _know_ who I am?”

He grins and uses the hiraishin.

“He’s so annoying,” she huffs at the sudden flash of lightning and then smiles nevertheless, “I still like him though.”

“I’m not Ino, Sakura,”

“No, you’re _Temari_ ,”

Shikamaru drops his pen.

“Do you really think I didn’t know?” she laughs when his face blanches and tosses him his pen, “Gaara is her brother.”

He scowls and flushes despite himself, “I thought we were being discreet.”

“You were, but Gaara does like to gossip believe it or not,” Sakura snickers when he covers his face and they leave the village square. She would use the hiraishin to meet Minato in the training fields, but she thinks he gave her this time to talk to Shikamaru, alone at least.

“The Kazekage likes gossip? That sounds—”

“—impossible? So does Minato and being alive,” she snorts and cracks her spine, “It’s a strange world we live in Shikamaru.”

“How are you dealing with that?” Shikamaru asks suddenly and looks at her curiously, “Dating Naruto’s tou-san and all? Is it weird?”

“At first, I thought so too,” Sakura muses, “But Minato has been with me for so _long._ He’s seen me at my worst and my best, I don’t know what I would do without him. Minato doesn’t even see Naruto as his son – like that’s so fucked up but – he hasn’t been around to be a father and Naruto is an adult now. It’s complicated, but it’s not? Does that make sense?”

“Do feelings _ever_ make sense?”

She laughs.

“I just wanted to make sure that you’re okay,” Shikamaru rubs the back of his neck, “I know it’s been hard since the water crisis and Kakashi-sensei just disappearing from sight. I don’t want you to burn out or—” he scowls suddenly, “I’m just trying to make sure you’re okay, okay? And that the Yondaime or anyone isn’t taking advantage of you.”

Sakura tries to squash down a smile, but ends up throwing her arm around Shikamaru’s shoulders, “You’re so cute, Shika!”

He almost whines, “ _Sakura—”_

“Thank you, for looking out for me, Shikamaru,” she sobers up however and squeezes him, “I know you’ve been under a lot of scrutiny from the Elders and the council but I won’t let them put you in a position where you can’t find your way out.”

“You don’t have to look after me, Sakura,” Shikamaru frowns.

“I’m looking after my friend, Shika,” Sakura corrects him and then releases him with a quick tap on the shoulder. “Don’t ask me to not care about my friends.”

He looks at her with dark brown eyes and then ruffles her hair. He smiles at her lazily, “I got it, Hokage-sama.”

She scowls and grabs his forearm, “Just for that—”

—she flashes across the village with the hiraishin.

Sakura promptly releases Shikamaru so he can dry heave against a tree and Minato winces from a nearby tree branch. He flashes until he’s next to her and pats the Nara on the back consolingly, “There was no rush, Sakura.”

She sniffs, “He deserved it.”

“What could Shikamaru do to deserve such—” Minato swallows back his words when he sees the glare that Sakura shoots him.

“Don’t act as if you have never done the same thing to me, Minato,” Sakura scowls and rakes back her hair, “Lee!”

Rock Lee swallows the glob of rice in his mouth and waves enthusiastically at Sakura, “Hokage-sama!”

She laughs uneasily and puts a healing hand on Shikamaru’s back to stop his dry heaves. Shrugging off Minato’s hand on her shoulder, she walks over to the taijutsu expert as he shovels down his food and replies, “You don’t have to call me that Lee, are we not friends?”

“I must show my utmost respect for you, Hokage-sama! You’ve worked very hard and exercised the supreme levels of youth to reach the highest position in the Leaf Village. It would be a,” he swallows another mouthful of rice, “Dishonorable to call you anything but!”

Sakura rubs her face, “Well, alright then. Take your time eating Lee, I don’t want you to choke.”

“Yes, Hokage-sama!”

“Gods, Sakura,” Shikamaru winces and sinks down to rest against the tree, “Just how _fast_ are you?”

“You know,” she thinks about it for a moment and looks over at Minato, “I never really tested it out.”

Minato blinks and then tilts his head to the side. His tongue peeks out from pearly whites in a tease, “Want to do a test run?”

“Have you had your weekly physical?” Sakura asks warily and then pokes his chest with a forefinger, “I don’t want you straining your system.”

He wraps his fingers around her hand and tugs her closer. He promises, “I’m fine.”

She quirks an eyebrow.

Minato drops a kiss to her mouth and then shoves a palm into her stomach. She exhales roughly and flashes until she’s on the tree branch above Shikamaru’s head. Sakura scowls, “That was a cheap trick.”

“Ninja,” he smiles from across the field and his fingers twirl a kunai—his _special_ kunai. Minato notices that Sakura’s eyes are glued to his kunai and explains, “I had Shikamaru dig this up. Shikaku had them, I trusted him to handle my belongings in case I died.”

“Your will?” Shikamaru looks up curiously.

“That and other things, I did help him propose to Yoshino-san,” Minato reveals and Shikamaru’s eyes widen at that.

Sakura flashes and Minato dodges a fist, his thumb barely brushing her hipbone as he flashes to the left. She breathes, “You’re getting distracted.”

Minato flickers again, she’s expecting him however and while she can’t track his movements—she can feel the brush of heat without even breathing. Her fingers grab onto his shirt and then he’s gone in the next blink, “For you, maybe.”

She suppresses a grin and flickers to the right, “This is going to be a slow battle; how much chakra do you have now?”

“A little above a chunin,” Minato answers thoughtfully.

“It’s been a little more than a month, Minato,” Sakura says with disbelief and glances at his hands with concern, “You’re not taking any chakra enhancers or medication are you?”

He rolls his eyes and can’t help the small lick of warmth that spreads through his fingers, “Of course, not. But I’ve always been active.”

“You’ve been doing _paperwork_ with me,”

“I train on lunch breaks,” Minato shrugs and tightens his grip on his kunai, “You always have lunch with Ino, so I eat and train with—“

“With?”

“Sai,”

Sakura is poleaxed by that statement. Since she’s appointed Sai to her head of ANBU and has him working with Sasuke in the shadows, it’s almost worrying how Minato seems to have to find time to be with the people she doesn’t see that often. Unless, of course, he’s keeping an eye out on Sasuke, that would make sense, but she’s sure that the Yondaime doesn’t have a keenness towards the former ROOT agent. She stares at him with incredulity, “Sai— _Sai?_ Since when?”

“As the Hokage’s current advisor I deal with ANBU reports, remember?” Minato looks at her with concern, “Are you alright, Sakura?”

“You do look tired,” Rock Lee decides to interject and asks worriedly, “Have you been getting enough sleep, Hokage-sama?”

Sakura’s eyebrow twitches and Minato’s abashed laugh is enough of an answer to the Nara. The Hokage’s assistant groans into his hands, he can’t look at them—it’s like watching his parents, but _worse._

“I’m fine,” Sakura replies tersely and then glares at Minato who has the nerve to look embarrassed, “I must be getting old if I can’t keep track of things.”

“The old joke was unnecessary,”

She slams her heel onto the ground, flickers, and her lips brush the edge of Minato’s ear, “I don’t _care_.”

—

“Isn’t it funny, out of all the things I’ve done, giving a lecture isn’t one of them,” Sakura snorts and takes another bite of her ice cream. She decides to try the soymilk and green tea flavored ice-cream; Minato opts for vanilla.

“You’ve never taught a medical class?” Minato asks with minute surprise and pulls her on the bench across the park. It’s a rough pull of the wrist, but it lets her bump hips with him and she swings a leg over his knee.

“No, not in a classroom,” she shakes her head and licks up a drop of ice cream from her thumb, “I have taught on the field during the war, but that was just mostly me instructing other medical shinobi.”

“You’re not nervous, are you?” he quirks a blonde brow at her and sighs when her mouth puckers, “You are.”

“I’m not nervous,” Sakura rolls her eyes and then looks down at her half-eaten ice cream, “Just a little tense.”

“From today or about the class?” Minato takes a lick of her ice cream and hums when the matcha curls against his cheek.

“What Shin-sama said and did is really bothering me,” she confesses and takes another lick, “Why would the _Mizuchi_ bother dragging a Daimyo into shinobi politics?”

“Well, if we believe the Mizuchi’s true purpose – because we don’t know _what_ it is – is to destabilize all the shinobi relationships, pitting the Daimyo’s against us would just lower the economy and drag down the _worth_ of the country,” he muses and finishes his treat.

“What about not recognizing Kurotsuchi as Kage?” Sakura inquires absently and tosses her popsicle stick into a nearby trash.

“Wasn’t she appointed like a year ago?”

“Two,” she revises and looks at him pointedly, “I was appointed eight months ago.”

“Have they said anything to you, specifically?” Minato narrows his eyes at that.

“The _Mizuchi_? No,” Sakura bites her thumb, “Is it that strange though?”

“I don’t think so,” he stretches to put his arm around the bench, the dip in his forearm brushing the back of her shoulders, “It’s strange that they would single out the Tsuchikage like that. The _Mizuchi_ didn’t do that with Chojuro even though Mist was the one that really got hit.”

“It’s almost like they’re targeting specific people,” she comments lightly and leans her head against his shoulder, “Which doesn’t make sense unless they want me to pick a fight with the Kurotsuchi.”

“She isn’t exactly the most _beloved_ Kage in all of the shinobi nations,” Minato scoffs and twirls a finger in her hair.

“Just say she’s a pain in the ass, Minato,” Sakura rolls her eyes and squeaks when he kisses her suddenly, chastely.

The sweet, sticky residue of vanilla that clings to his lips has her humming against his mouth and she swipes her tongue at his lower lip. Chuckling when he chases the tingle and drops a kiss to his chin, “I’m still waiting on correspondence.”

“A messenger bird to Iwa shouldn’t take too long, especially summons,” Minato pacifies her with a kiss to her temple, “We should have a response back at the end of the day.”

“Kurotsuchi is unpredictable,” Sakura groans and he presses a hand to the back of her neck to ease her, “I should’ve sent Naruto to Iwa instead.”

“Who would go to Kumo then?”

“Shikamaru,” she huffs and scowls, “I would’ve sent Kakashi-sensei, but he’s being a righteous pain by disappearing to who knows where.”

“I’ll have Gai tail him,” Minato offers and she leans into his shoulder again, “Tsunade-sama said he’s been going to PT though.”

“That’s good, maybe he just needed time? To adjust?”

“He was Hokage for some time, maybe he wanted to hole up in his apartment,” he wonders, “He did the same thing when his father died, I guess it’s just his way of coping.”

“I feel bad now,” Sakura frowns and sighs, “I don’t know how to talk to that man sometimes.”

“Kakashi has always been difficult,” Minato agrees and squeezes her knee, “The more you push him, the more he deflects, but I find that leaving him alone and then surprising him really kicks him into gear.”

“I’ll leave him to you?” she looks at him with hopeful jade orbs and scrapes his nails down her scalp.

“Yeah,” he presses another kiss to her hairline.

The Global Medical Program – which really needs better marketing – has two buildings. One for lectures, classes, and a library. The second building is for labs and research. It’s quite small, but Sakura hopes that with more students and funding, they can expand into maybe a compound worth of buildings. This is just wishful thinking of course, but Shizune-senpai thinks it’s a great idea.

Sakura is only teaching one class and that is _intro to poison and antidotes_ , unsurprising, but a power move if Tsunade had taught her anything and it will get the students gossiping, which in the end is free advertising. Other than coming up with a very, very _vague_ syllabus and an even ambiguous curriculum, Sakura walks into the room with her hands swinging and shoulders back.

Minato decides to sit in on the class – which may be an intimidation technique to the rest of her students – but Sakura thinks that he genuinely wanted to learn and the fact that he’s there makes her feel a touch calmer. He sits in the corner of the class, next to the door and she smiles at the students who stand up to acknowledge her.

“Take a seat, this is a three-hour lecture and we have a _lot_ of ground to cover,” Sakura motions them to take a seat and stands behind the podium. “I’ll keep the introduction short and sweet. I am Haruno Sakura, the Nanadaime, and will be teaching you for the remainder of the fall. This Intro to Poison and Antidotes; roll call will be done at the end of class. Before I start, do any of you have questions?”

A hand raises in front and she points at him, “Is it true that you found an antidote to the water poison in a few days?”

“Yes,” Sakura hesitates, “Fortunately, the Mizukage had a breakdown of the poison before I got there—that helped tremendously.”

Another hand.

“How did you find an antidote so quickly?” she pushes up her glasses, “Mist isn’t known for herbs.”

She approves of her student’s geographical skills, “That’s true, but that question leads into our first lecture: Isolation. The topic of isolation will be covered for a month, I assume everyone has taken all their chemistry and biochemistry pre-requisites?”

A resounding _yes_ echoes in the room.

Sakura nods, “Good. Minato—er, you remember the Yondaime-sama? Minato can you press that button behind you.”

It’s not the best way to introduce the recently resurrected Hokage, but it’s effective. Minato taps the button behind his head and the overhead projector pops up; technology truly is the greatest innovation of their time.

Sakura begins her lecture with a picture of a poison underneath a microscope, “Isolation, also known as _selectivity_ is when a nin can pull out a chemical compound within a homogenous mixture with a simple chakra extraction, which is not too far off from the concept of a poison extraction. Unlike most water jutsu, using this chakra extraction – let’s call it a water simplifier – can hold with just your fingertips, hand seals aren’t needed. It’s strictly theoretical…”

Minato is entranced by Sakura’s lecture, he knows that he’s not the only one, because her students are writing down everything she’s saying almost chaotically and looking up at her with stars in their eyes and he hides a smile. Sakura is so passionate in the way she speaks, from her body language that is inviting and open, to the way she patiently answers questions and clarifies her thoughts.

The lecture passes smoothly and when Sakura dismisses her students, they thank her for the opportunity to study in the Leaf village, it flusters Sakura to the point that she flushes and tries to stammer a response—that’s when Minato decides to drop in.

“The Leaf thanks you for your dedication and commitment towards our program,” Minato smiles politely and puts his hands on Sakura’s shoulders, “Sakura is also very appreciative, aren’t you?”

It’s just the right amount of sass and innocence that pulls her out of her stuttering stupor. She elbows Minato into his gut lightly and brazens it out, “Thank you for your time, make sure to study up on the compounds—we’ll be in the lab next week.”

When the lecture room empties, Sakura turns to look at Minato, and with her hands on her hips, she asks, “How was that?”

“—I think that was perfect,” Shī’s voice cuts through the ocean of Minato’s calm, they sharpen like two blades as they turn to look at the new visitor. Shī is thoughtful, “You did ramble a bit about ionic bonds and the lack of electrons when burning them with chakra, but that is such a tricky technique for a beginner class.”

“Shī,” Sakura greets flatly and crosses her arms underneath her chest.

“Hokage-sama,” he nods politely, though his smile is anything but.

Minato’s eyebrow twitches at that, he bites the inside of his cheek and looks at Sakura with starlight-colored orbs, “You did well. They all paid attention, they took notes and were scrambling over each other to ask questions.”

Sakura beams at that, “I thought I was overloading them with information, especially when I got to the section of neutralization…”

“We can celebrate your first lecture,” Shī cuts her off swiftly, he smiles shortly and takes her hand in his. Minato doesn’t have it, but it’s Sakura who shakes him off and rolls her eyes at his obliviousness.

“ _We_ are having dinner,” Minato scowls, he doesn’t move to touch Sakura because _she_ will come to him. Like she always has, like she always did, and crosses his arms underneath his chest. “She will see you tomorrow for your report.”

Sakura looks at him sharply, “Minato.”

He pins her with blue eyes, “He has another class, remember?”

She forgot because she’s _tired_ and asks wryly, “Are you sure you don’t want to be my assistant?”

“I don’t see your name on her, Yondaime-sama,” Shī rolls his honorific with dry pleasantries, manners that don’t seem, to quite frankly exist.

Minato stares at him for a moment, he walks up to Sakura, pulls more to the side so that the blonde medic has a front-view seat – Sakura raises a brow at Minato’s sudden proximity – he fingers the silk line of her kimono top, trails down the v and tugs the material to the side, exposing a small side of her right breast. He inquires casually, “What does this bitemark tell you, then?”


	22. celestial

“No,” Sakura sighs for the eighth time since they’ve entered the boutique right across the Kyoko’s Café and groans from her seat, “How many blue shirts do you even _need_?”

“What?” Minato frowns from the dressing room and buttons a light blue button-up. He pulls the curtain back and gives her a look, “What do you mean?”

“You have three crew-necks, two sleeveless, one long-sleeve, a sweater, and five pairs of pants that are all _blue,_ ” she emphasizes the last word and cocks a brow.

“They aren’t all _blue,_ ” he rolls starlight orbs and picks up a sleeveless, “See _this_? This is _navy_ ,” then he picks up his sweater with two fingers, “And this? This is _pastel_ blue.”

“I will hit you,” Sakura threatens him with a blank face and looks over at the pile of clothes on the side of the couch, “Can’t you get some other colors?”

“Is this coming from the person who’s closet is eighty percent _red_?”

She narrows her eyes, “I don’t _wear_ that much red,” she pauses, “Anymore.”

“Not for a lack of trying,” Minato grumbles underneath his breath and fixes his collar.

“ _What_ , was that?” Sakura asks sweetly, standing up, she walks towards him slowly and crosses her arms.

He straightens up and coughs, “Nothing.”

She fixes his collar for him, pulling down the flap and smoothens out the edges. Minato wraps his arms around her hips as she adjusts the lines of his shirts and waits patiently, “Are you sure you want pinstripes?”

“What’s wrong with pinstripes?”

“What’s right with them?” Sakura wrinkles her nose, “It’s outdated, like twenty years—right.”

Minato glares at the jibe.

She smiles innocently and raises her hands up, “I forgot?”

“You _forgot_ ,” he scoffs and raises blonde brows, thumbs digging into the base of her spine, “That wasn’t nice, Sakura.”

“I’m _not_ nice,” Sakura reminds him with a grin, and a squeak escapes her mouth when he lifts her up her feet to kiss her. She’s reminded of his prowess, his strength when he raises her like a weight set, her feet brushing the outline of his knees and her teeth nip his bottom lip playfully.

“And I wasn’t a _Hokage_ ,” Minato retorts dryly, after pulling back and placing her on her feet.

She rolls green eyes and glances over at the pile of clothes, “At least get some neutrals, you’re going to look like a walking blueberry with all this blue.”

He scowls.

Sakura presses her lips to the corner of his mouth in response and practically prances away. She stops over at the pajama section and picks up some flannel pants. She can’t believe she took so _long_ to get Minato _clothes,_ she would send ANBU to pick up some things or even _Ino_ —she retracts that thought immediately.

Knowing Ino, she would probably have him fitted for leather and something as equally debauched, but now that she’s thinking about it—it wouldn’t be _so_ bad. Sakura smiles evilly to herself and picks up a few basic shirts. Leather and silk—a silk shirt, that’s what he needs or maybe a—

“Hokage-sama?” Moegi interrupts her thoughts of wantonness, with a quick shove of the hands and scroll is presented in her small fists, “This just arrived from Iwa.”

Sakura blinks rapidly, accepts the scroll, and dismisses the chunin.

She unravels the scroll.

It’s short, curt, and has no pleasantries:

_Hokage-sama,_

_While I appreciate your interest in our affairs, it is quite frankly, none of your business. Iwa will continue to rise without your help, your people, and most certainly your stuffy attitude. Mist is your mess and while Iwa is sympathetic to the problems arising in that part of the world, we will remain in isolation until this matter is corrected._

_The Earth Daimyo will be dealt with as soon as he’s back in the barracks, I appreciate the heads-up, but this is a domestic problem, not international._

_Sincerely,_

_The Yondaime Tsuchikage._

Sakura crushes the letter with her left hand and the ire stings the back of her nerves. The _arrogance_ the Fourth Tsuchikage exudes borders on irrational and dangerous. She _hates_ that woman with everything she has – hate is a useless and weak emotion she knows this – but she _really_ doesn’t like her. She had bitten her tongue during the last Kage summit, mostly because it would undermine Kakashi’s authority and it really wasn’t her place. But now, she’s Hokage.

She supposes she could allow Kurotsuchi to stew in her own stupidity, she _could_ grovel to the Nanadaime and then Sakura would _consider_ helping her out, yet that scenario is only plausible with a one on one situation. In this scenario, there are multiple countries being hit, there are casualties, and resources are depleting. An international scenario, if anything, but it’s stifling when people can’t come to a reasonable and _logical_ conclusion together.

That was the point of the _summit._

“That is not a happy face,” Minato snaps her out of her own little musings, he glances down at the pajama pants, “What did flannel ever do to you?”

“It’s not the flannel I’m annoyed with,” Sakura huffs and shoves the letter into her pocket, “It’s Kurotsuchi.”

“The Tsuchikage?” he frowns, “Correspondence? She replied?”

“Yes,” she hesitates and sighs, “She basically told us to mind our own business and that she’ll deal with the Daimyo.”

Minato scowls and tugs on his collar, “She’s going to end up with more problems if they keep an isolation stance.”

“I have been contemplating publicly condemning the _Mizuchi_ ,” Sakura starts, folding the pants beneath her arms, “Which would give legitimatize them, which is what they _want_ and that would give them the power they need to keep creating fear. If we do that, then the Tsuchikage would most likely jump on board for a coalition, should it come to that. I was going to wait until we have more evidence, despite my earlier inhibitions. The Earth Daimyo has perspective, thankfully. I hope that Shin-sama can knock sense into Kurotsuchi, though it might sound kind off of condescending…”

“Do you think we should publicly condemn the _Mizuchi_?” he asks suddenly.

“Do _you_?” she questions his question.

“We might have to,” Minato pulls out a dress shirt, black, she notices and nods at the material, “I know it’s what they want, but if they are a great enough threat, it seems counterintuitive to not take precautionary measures.”

Sakura takes a seat on the couch again, covers her legs with his dress shirts, and takes to a thinking pose, “Giving them power is dangerous.”

“It’s even more dangerous if they aren’t taken seriously,” he counters and grabs a pack of boxers, “Caution is good.”

“If the _Mizuchi_ orchestrates another attack, then I’ll give an announcement,” she decides at that and considers the repercussions, “They may already have gained power, but if we keep dismissing it and not take them seriously it could lead to more problems. I know. I can’t wait for confirmation if more people are getting killed.”

“What countries haven’t been attacked?”

“Suna and Kumo,” Sakura answers immediately, “Those are the big ones left, at least. Big enough to give us aid.”

“All lands are useful,” Minato scolds her lightly.

“I meant _country_ Minato,” she rolls her eyes, “You know how big the Land of Fire is, the minor countries, at least according to Shikamaru are being left alone. They’re targeting countries with Daimyos.”

“A money trail?” he interrupts thoughtfully, “The Daimyos have no real power, we established this.”

“Yes, but they have _money_ ,” Sakura shrugs, “They also founded villages, countries, government before shinobi—tradition, at least.”

“And Naruto still hasn’t sent a report yet?”

“No,” she replies and tosses him a pair of black nin pants, “Try these on, I’m partial to your ANBU uniform, sans the head brace,” she pauses, “It’s only been a week. The mission is indefinite.”

Minato tugs the curtain to the changing room and slips off his trousers, “An update on the curriculum at least?”

“Foreign education isn’t our concern nor is it released that easily,” Sakura reminds him and digs her elbow into the armrest, “I could contact Darui, but I don’t want to seem like a busybody.”

He opens the curtains and pulls on the strings of his pants, “Is it really micromanaging if you’re checking up on Naruto? A Leaf shinobi?”

She gets up and fiddles with the strings for him, “What? You think I should send a letter?”

Minato hums, “Something about wanting to know if Naruto is burning down the village?”

Sakura chuckles and steps back, “I could do that, I guess. Does it have pockets?”

He shoves his hands in, “Yes, I like these.”

“I do too,” she muses and nods, “Okay, get two of those?”

Minato sighs with exasperation, “How many clothes do I even need?”

“A whole wardrobe,” Sakura puts her hands on her hips and scowls, “You’re nuts if you think I’m going to let you wear outdated clothes around town. You won’t get the lecture from me, it will be from Ino-pig.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be working, Hokage-sama?” he asks sarcastically and dodges the pack of boxers.

“And that’s Nanadaime-sama to you,” she puts a hand on her hip and smirks.

—

“I see,” Shikamaru starts and raises a brow in disbelief at the number of shopping bags that clutter the corner of the Hokage office, “You had a busy morning.”

Minato drops to his seat next to Sakura and places his head on the table. He groans, “ _Please,_ Shikamaru.”

“I don’t know why you’re complaining,” Sakura rolls her eyes, “I still have to get you fitted for a kimono and dress clothes.”

“Sakura,” Minato turns to look at her with amused exasperation, “We went shopping for _three_ hours.”

“Clearly you’ve been dead for too long,” she clicks her tongue and hands him a folder. She thinks she’s entirely too comfortable with the random reminders of his supposed demise, so comfortable that even Shikamaru is _bothered_ by it. “That you can’t even recognize that there is a common preconception that women love shopping; which is not true. I don’t do this because I _want_ to, I do this because I _have_ to.”

He gives her a deadpanned look.

Then she sighs impatiently, “And I can’t stand seeing you into so much blue, it’s almost worse than Naruto’s orange obsession.”

Shikamaru smothers his laughter into his forearm and clears his throat when the Yondaime looks at him in betrayal.

“There is nothing _wrong_ with blue,” Minato says offended.

“I know,” Sakura snorts, “But pace yourself, you’re going to look like a—”

—a messenger bird taps on the glass.

He narrows ocean eyes and dares her, “Go ahead, finish that sentence.”

She smiles sweetly at him and ruffles his hair while opening the window. She winces when the talons of the bird dig into her arm, once she unties the scroll from its ankle, the bird flies over to Shikamaru’s shoulder and squawks. She laughs, “It likes you.”

Shikamaru winces at the squawks, he feeds it a rice cracker from his pouch and it flies back out the window, “Unfortunately.”

“It’s from Naruto,” Sakura’s eyes widen, and then she snaps her head to look at the Yondaime in disbelief, “Who _are_ you?”

Minato grins boyishly and tilts his head, “Do you really want me to answer?”

“If you’re going to kiss just tell me when to close my eyes,” The Nara drawls from the corner of the room, “And my ears. I _so_ don’t want to hear that.”

“Do I complain when I see you and Temari walk around the village and—”

“—I can’t _hear_ you!” Shikamaru almost squeaks, violently blushing, and covers his face with his hands.

Minato just _has_ to laugh, “You’re worse than Naruto!”

Sakura giggled at that, taking a seat on her chair, she props up her feet on Minato’s lap and unlaces the scroll.

It reads:

_Sakura-chan,_

_I have to make this quick because it’s early and I’m tired, but I managed to find out about the weapon-making shop. Sasuke’s contact came through. They are a regular Kumo shinobi family selling weapons, but only the Ronin is getting the illegal weapons._

_I don’t know what that means because Ronin aren’t shinobi, but this doesn’t look right._

_—Naruto_

“What?” Sakura hisses and stares at the letter in disbelief, “This _cannot_ be right.”

“What?” Minato demands and his hands close over her calves in an unconscious display of defense.

“The ronin are the ones asking for the banned weapons,” she can’t believe the words that are coming out of her mouth.

Shikamaru asks with disbelief, “The _samurai_?”

“Iron is a neutral country,” the Yondaime points in incredulity, “They wouldn’t wage war with _all_ of the shinobi nations—they spit on shinobi weapons and even the mere _use_ of ninjutsu. Why would they need _banned_ shinobi weapons?”

“Not to mention they are _vastly_ outnumbered,” Sakura scratches the back of her neck, “I really thought the money trail would end up in Mist, I hadn’t even considered the _samurai._ Get me Sai and Sasuke, Shikamaru. I want them on this.”

“Aren’t they on a mission?” Minato frowns and Shikamaru disappears in a puff of smoke.

“Came back last night,” she sighs into her chair and looks out the window, “I sent them to Snow.”

“I read the mission details,” he states.

“They took out a high-value target,” Sakura explains and pours herself a cup of tea, “Someone who was supposed to be dead, but they didn’t die. Remember the list?”

“How can I forget?” Minato breathes.

The mission, on paper, was fairly simple: assassinate a high-ranking warlord. When Sakura appointed Sai as the head of ANBU, there wasn’t any nepotism or bias for her pick. Sai was a part of ROOT, he knows the ins and outs of ANBU better than anyone else and what’s more, is that Naruto _turned_ him. He _turned_ him, without doing anything other than using communication and teaching. Sakura _knows_ Sai will keep her in the loop and if there is any sway among the ranks.

Loyalty is earned, not bought.

With Sasuke as her right-hand, she can move without actually _moving._

What Sai does is on the books, what Sasuke does isn’t.

What Sai and Sasuke didn’t calculate, was how much environmental damage they could do when completing their assassination assignment. There were several dozen nin with the warlord, from all kinds of ninja ranks, and with Sasuke’s fire affinity and Sai’s summons, things got a bit too hectic.

“There was collateral damage,” she replies with hesitation and winces, “Ten civilians.”

He reaches for her hand, but she pulls away from him. This is her shame, her disgrace, and her mistake.

Minato doesn’t have it, he grabs her hands and tugs her until she straddles his thighs. He cups her cheek and punctuates with each breath. He narrows ocean eyes, “This is _not_ your fault.”

“I—”

“—will not believe that this was my fault because I was not the one performing the mission,” Minato finishes her sentence for her and presses his fingernails into the back of her neck. Her back arches, but he just pulls her closer into the pocket of his hips, “You assigned the mission. Sai and Sasuke should’ve taken more precautions. They aren’t genin, they know better.”

“I should’ve sent more people with them,” Sakura clenches her teeth, his fingers trail down her spine, and weaves his hand into her hair, “They were overrun.”

“Sakura you can’t take all of their deaths and wear them around your shoulders,” he explains and she presses her hands into his shoulders, “It will weigh you down. Kageship is a heavy enough burden to bear, you know this. So why are you letting it bother you?”

Emerald orbs gloss over and she whispers, “There were two children.”

Minato exhales in understanding and wraps his arms around her. He murmurs, “Oh _Sakura_.”

“I’m fine, I promise,” Sakura inhales shakily and squeezes him for a moment. Then she pulls back and repeats, “I’m fine. It’s just a lot, with everything happening and I just don’t want to make mistakes.”

“But you’re going to,” he says what she doesn’t want to say.

“Yeah,” she sighs and goes back to sit in her chair. “Sometimes I just want to run away.”

Minato snorts and presses a kiss to her temple, “You’re not the only one. I’ve had enough of politics and fighting in wars for a lifetime.”

“Tis the life of a shinobi,”

“If you start quoting _Daichi’s paradigm_ , I will jump out the window,” he threatens with no real heat.

Sakura pouts, “You’re going to leave me with Sasuke? I thought you _liked_ me.”

Minato bites her lower lip, gives her a brief, rough, wet kiss, and pulls back, “I’m thinking about it.”

She scowls.

“Did we interrupt something?” Shikamaru notices her frown and the Yondaime’s blatant ignorance towards the Hokage.

“I was about to fling Minato out the window, but it’s fine. You saved him from flying into a tree,” Sakura huffs and glances over at the paperwork.

Sai furrows his brows, “But the Yondaime-sama would use the hiraishin to flicker out of the tree? Right?”

“Minato isn’t the only one who knows how to use the hiraishin,” she reminds him and sniffs when the blonde tugs on a pink strand, “Naruto relayed some information from Kumo.”

“About the banned weapons?” Sasuke quirks a brow.

“Yes,” Sakura pauses, “The samurai are buying the banned weapons.”

“What?” the Uchiha is incredulous, “The samurai?”

“That’s what we said at first,” Minato replies agreeing with the exclamation, “We don’t know why they’re doing it.”

“But why is Kumo making the weapons?” Sai questions.

“I don’t the answer to that either,” she explains and then looks over at her map, “It’s possible that the Raikage has no knowledge of this either. It also might be possible that these weapons are being made, not for the public, but for specific clients. It might be a front. We don’t know. I’m sending the both of you to Iron. Sai will go into the village as himself, you’re going to bring a package full of supplies. Herbs. Ino will give it to you. Sasuke you move at night, tell me what you can scrape up from the shadows.”

“A scouting mission?” Sasuke inquires curiously, “It might be better for another person to go to Kumo and check up on the shop, while the dobe is running interference.”

Minato’s lips thin.

“It is, but I have someone else in mind,” Sakura offers and goes on, “The guise is delivery, the real mission is to find out _who_ is getting those weapons and what those people are doing with it. I would hate to learn that Iron is responsible for the deaths of these many shinobi or in at least some way, responsible for them.”

“Duration, ugly—Hokage-sama?” Sai smiles.

She narrows her eyes at that, “I’ll let that slide. As long as it takes. I want to know as soon as possible. This will be classified as a B-rank mission, you leave tomorrow. Dismissed.”

—

“Do you think it’s a good idea to send Chouji to Kumo?” Shikamaru asks her as they close up the office for the day.

“Kumo _likes_ Chouji, I’m sure they’ll be okay with him visiting for his technically mandatory but also secret mission of observation and intelligence gathering,” Sakura replies and ties her hair up into a ponytail, “Besides, since they’ve tried Chouji’s very healthy stew, they’ve been begging for his clan recipe. It can’t hurt to include some diplomacy ties in this mission.”

“You’re not as clever as you think you are Sakura,” the Nara shakes his head as Minato raises a brow at that. “You think I don’t know you’re trying to put some space in between Ino and Chouji. They do need it, I think. They need to figure out what they want.”

“Oh so you _do_ know what I was doing,” she grins and puts on her outer robes, “I always knew you were a genius, Shika.”

Shikamaru scowls and then chuckles, “Of course, Hokage-sama. Ino is waiting for you at the training grounds.”

“Training grounds?” Minato asks once they leave the office, they stand in the hallway outside the door and he leans against the wall.

“I promised Ino that I would meet her team, for a while now actually,” Sakura starts and then locks the door, “I haven’t exactly had the time. So I’m going to sit on one of their training exercises, Ino wants me to gauge their abilities so I can start assigning them _real_ missions.”

“Cat chasing is just not cutting it, is it?” he chuckles and crosses his arms.

“Evidently not,” she rolls her eyes, “Though, I do understand their frustrations.”

Minato then grabs her hips, pulls her until her breasts are pushed against his chest and her hips rest against the cradle of his pelvis. He whispers against her lips, “Do you?”

Sakura grins against his mouth, “When Chouji comes back, I’m going to flip the council. I’m getting rid of those old bats. The Hokage may hold the power in Konoha, but it’s the council that gives sway.”

“I really do love when you talk power and monopoly,” he murmurs against the corner of her lips, “It’s _really_ hot.”

Minato swallows a bubble of mirth with his mouth. He kisses her slowly, sweetly, endlessly, and keeps his hand at the back of her neck. He angles her for a deeper, more intimate kiss, but she pulls away before she can feel her knees weaken.

“I have to go,” Sakura giggles when he chases her mouth and squeezes his wrists in response. “Dinner?”

“Tonight,” he promises and drops another kiss to her mouth, “We’re getting BBQ.”

She frowns.

“You’ve had tempura four times this week,”

“Tempura is _good_ ,”

Minato gives her a _look_ and presses another kiss to her lips, “Go before I change my mind and decide to keep you for myself.”

Sakura laughs and leans back, “I’d like to see you try.”

She flashes.

He stares at the hallway for a moment with a wry smile and then sighs, “You can come out Kakashi.”

Kakashi walks into the hallway slowly and quirks a brow, “You can sense me?”

Minato gives him a blank look, “Kakashi, you’re my _student._ Chakra or not, I _know_ when you’re up to something.”

He wrinkles his nose, “I’m not a kid, Minato-sensei.”

He sighs, runs a hand through his blonde hair, and looks at him, “Even Sakura knew you were here, that’s why she disappeared,” he glances at the Rokudaime’s stature, “You’ve been going to physical therapy.”

“That obvious, hm,” Kakashi hums and leans against the wall. He shrugs, “Tsunade-sama makes a compelling argument.”

“She said she was going to beat the _shit_ of you, yeah?” Minato doesn’t mince words and he isn’t usually very crass, he thinks he’s picked up this habit from Sakura and that almost makes him smile. He really _does_ smile when Kakashi stammers at the uncharacteristic use of the phrase and decides to help him out with, “I’m glad _someone_ was able to knock some sense into your head.”

Kakashi winces and walks with him down the hall, “I just needed some time. A lot of time.”

The Yondaime understands, but he also doesn’t understand Kakashi’s logic. He doesn’t mean to guilt-trip him, but it’s inevitable with the way Sakura’s been shouldering the burden and keeps going, “You hurt Sakura a lot by ignoring her. She never said it because that’s not the type of person she is, but she was upset that you abandoned her,” he shakes his head, “ _Again.”_

“I didn’t abandon her,” The Rokudaime snaps and bites the inside of his cheek. He tries to calm himself down, “I’ve only known how to be a shinobi—”

“You’re not dead, Kakashi,” Minato cuts him off flatly and they leave the Hokage Towers, “You didn’t stop being a shinobi, you’re on the same level as shinobi who don’t have an advantage in life. You can stop being a shinobi or you can be one. It’s up to you, but don’t you _dare_ blame Sakura for this. She has worked _too_ hard and —”

He exhales and pinches the bridge of his nose, “Just talk to her. She’s your student.”

“She hasn’t needed me for a while, Minato-sensei,” Kakashi shakes his head and they leave the Towers.

“Students don’t just stop needing teachers, Kakashi,” Minato gives him a look and then scoffs, “And Sakura doesn’t really need anyone, but she _wants_ us to be around her so—”

“—you’re really serious about her, aren’t you?” The Hatake says with minute surprise and stops abruptly at the steps to say this, “Sakura. You really _are_ serious about her.”

“What gave it away?” he snaps with exasperation and looks at him in disbelief, “ _Of course_ I’m serious about her.”

“Are you sure you don’t see her as a Kushina substitute?”

Minato’s eyes narrow to those of ice chips and Kakashi is suddenly reminded that his sensei is one of the most dangerous shinobi on the planet for a _reason._ Even though his chakra reserves aren’t as deep as they once were, even though his chakra isn’t fully _replenished,_ the Yondaime’s _flee on sight_ waver still holds and he feels himself stiffen at that. His sensei has never, ever, looked at him with eyes like that, his chakra coiling like a whip and he positions himself in a defensive position.

Almost as if he were an enemy.

But if that were true, does the Yondaime see _him_ as an enemy?

His own student—an enemy in regards to who? To what?

_Sakura._

Kakashi had always the habit of picking at his scabs, waiting for them to be bleed and band it later.

This was no different.

“You will hold your tongue, Kakashi,” Minato almost snarls at him, his fists curl at his sides, and tries to ground himself from saying something he would regret. He can’t help the way he faces Kakashi and squares his shoulders, “Kushina—Sakura is _nothing_ like Kushina,” he pauses, “I don’t want her to be.”

Kakashi frowns at that, “What does _that_ mean?”

“Kushina and I grew up together,” he says and the muscle in his jaw twitches, “Sakura and I didn’t. We met as adults. The same age and we bring out the worst and best sides in each other. With Kushina it was easier, simpler and I will always love her, but—” he swipes his face, “—but it’s time I move on Kakashi.”

“I know,” the Rokudaime surprises the Yondaime and shrugs, “Thought I would ask.”

Minato frowns.

“Sakura is my student,” Kakashi scratches the back of his head, “Well, my female student and I should keep an eye out on her. From men. Especially,” he’s as awkward as Obito when speaking to girls, “Look, I just wanted to know if you were serious about her and not seeing her as a replacement for Kushina.”

“Sakura and Kushina are not similar, whatsoever,” he replies flatly and shoves his hands in his pockets.

“You have a _type,_ sensei,”

“ _Kakashi_ ,” the chakra rolling off Minato is nothing short of dangerous, it reeks of killing intent and his student ignores the fumes of decay with a blink of the eyes.

“Strange hair-color and a temper that could bring a God to their knees,” Kakashi retorts lightly and then pauses, “Though Sakura already has.”

Minato rolls starlight orbs, “Kushina made sure I would pass on should the seal fail or if she didn’t live to see Naruto,” he inhales, “I think I have her blessing, don’t you?”

“You do,” he hums, “But you haven’t asked her most important person for their blessing.”

He frowns, “Who? Her parents?”

Kakashi rolls his eyes “Me.”

Minato blinks and snorts, “I don’t _need_ your permission to court Sakura.”

The Rokudaime shakes his head, “You don’t, you need my blessing. So in the end, what’s really _more_ important?”

—

Sakura frowns when she sees Minato with a tick in his brow. Ino’s team’s training had gone just as well as she had expected, they’re a little weak in the ninjutsu aspect, but deepening their reserves would fix that. She didn’t give them okay for non-domestic missions just yet, she wants them to work on their defense strategy so they have a solid foundation for their attack, that and give them a fighting chance when taking on more difficult missions.

Kakashi is _with_ him.

Which is rare.

“Kakashi-sensei,” Sakura greets him and frowns at the tension between the two of them. Still, she hesitates, “I don’t think I’ve seen you outside your house since the coronation.”

Kakashi shrugs and ruffles her hair, “Someone confiscated my books.”

She almost smiles, “Tsunade-shishou got to you?”

“I still think you’re scarier than her, Sakura-chan,”

It’s not an apology, but it’s something. Kakashi doesn’t apologize very frequently, if he does, he takes a while to come to terms with his mistakes. She’s known this from the very beginning, sometimes she did wonder if Kakashi had ulterior motives for using his own team as his ANBU Squad Platoon. She supposes that it doesn’t really matter now, her resources are spread thin now, and with Minato in the fray—she’s not sure where things are going.

But Kakashi is making an effort and that is more than she can ask for.

“Kakashi was just telling me that he started his physical therapy,” Minato decides to break the awkward tension and walks over to stand next to Sakura, “After _nine_ months.”

“I was on _vacation,_ ”

Sakura snorts, “Well at least he’s going, you’re lucky I didn’t sic Gai-sensei on you.”

Kakashi grimaces.

“I tried to tell him,” the Yondaime scoffs and tilts his head, “But he didn’t believe you were serious.”

“I’m not above using my shinobi to emotionally blackmail my porn-addicted sensei,”

“ _Your_ shinobi?” Kakashi raises a brow at that and then smiles behind his mask, “I told you that you would make a great Hokage.”

Sakura couldn’t smother the grin peeking from the corner of her lips.

Minato smiles at Sakura.

And then Kakashi remembers that he’s supposed to be _difficult_ with Minato-sensei. It’s one of his greatest charms and talents, after all. He may be a grown man, but it will never _not_ feel good to mess with his sensei; he almost winces when he realizes that he sounds like Naruto.

_Ugh._

“Aren’t you going to treat your favorite sensei to dinner, Sakura-chan?” Kakashi smiles sweetly, innocently, and tilts his head to the side.

Sakura cocks a brow, “That depends. Are you going to eat?”

Minato muffles a laugh and looks at her with dazzlingly blue eyes, “Another ploy to see Kakashi’s face?”

“Sakura has already seen my face,” the Rokudaime reminds him with a smirk, “You were there, weren’t you, sensei?”

_—Minato feels Sakura's desire, hot and heavy, so sharp and overwhelming that it nearly brings him to his knees—_

Minato remembers, he doesn’t _want_ to remember, but it’s there sitting in the back of his head like fog. Sitting, permeating his senses when he doesn’t want it to be, and then sometimes he thinks about it when his thoughts take a darker tone to it. He marks Sakura up even more because of it, she doesn’t mind, he knows it and it’s just a bonus that she _likes_ it just as much.

He bites the inside of his cheek, “I was, though Sakura’s memories are pretty hazy from the alcohol. I doubt she really remembers.”

Sakura cannot _look_ at either of them, she fears the red of her flush will overtake her face. The mortification, as well as the embarrassment, is strong in these waters, and she coughs while looking at a nearby tree, “Where did you want to go, Kakashi-sensei?”

Kakashi feigns a thinking position and then says, “ _Ran’s Pond_ ”

Minato blanches.

Because only Kakashi would pick the most expensive restaurant in Konoha.

“I’ve never heard of that place,” Sakura frowns and ignores Minato’s dumbfounded expression, “Where is it?”

“Oh you’re in for a _treat,_ Sakura-chan,” the Rokudaime’s eyes crinkle at the sides and Minato wraps an arm around her shoulder before Kakashi could pull her to his side.

Minato shoots him a look and Sakura looks at him in confusion, “I didn’t realize that place was still open.”

“It’s a staple,” Kakashi looks pointedly at his sensei’s arm on his student’s shoulders. The Yondaime ignores him of course and the Hokage wrinkles her nose in obliviousness.

“Lead the way, Kakashi-sensei,” Sakura ushers him with the quirk of the head, but she doesn’t move Minato’s arm around her shoulders, and that almost causes the blonde to smirk in spite.

 _Ran’s Pond,_ is in a word, extravagant. It’s beyond fancy and Sakura’s almost angry that she has never found it; she’s even more _irritated_ that Minato never even bothered to take her. The ceilings have built-in lanterns, dark cherry wood tables, dim lighting, live music, and walls _with_ water crystals.

But then when Sakura opens the menu and she sees why.

“This is high-scale robbery,” Sakura deadpans when she reads the prices, “Five thousand ryo for tempura? I could go home and have Minato make this.”

Minato snorts but doesn’t disagree.

Kakashi rolls his eyes and sighs with disappointment, “Sakura-chan it’s the _ambiance_ —”

“Oh! Sakura-sama, er, Hokage-sama! Um, Hokage-samas?” the waitress is starstruck at the number of Kages at the table, that and the fact that they are all together. In one place, at the same time. She fumbles with her notepad before the owner steps in and tells her to grab a pot of tea.

“If we knew the Hokages would be visiting we would’ve set you up with a private booth,” the owner, Ran, smiles at them and shows teeth when she settles on Sakura, “Sakura-sama, I am delighted to have you in my restaurant. I would like to thank you for healing my husband, he’s been active ever since you got rid of that nasty lung infection.”

“Oh, Imari-san,” Sakura recognizes her and she shakes her head, “It’s my job, I’m glad to hear Tomai-san is doing better, is he _still_ working on those rose bushes? He needs to drink that tea every night.”

Ran nods eagerly, “He better be. I watch him drink it every night, stupid old fool,” she sighs and then smiles again, “Please come whenever you feel like, Sakura-sama. Our restaurant is always open and free of charge for the woman who knocked my silly little husband off his horse.”

“Imari-san,” she gapes, shakes her head, and then raises her hands up, “It’s fine, we can pay—”

“—in my restaurant, Sakura-sama,” Ran interjects and winks, “I call the shots,” she then looks over at the two men situated with her and giggles, “Or maybe you do.”

Ran leaves Kakashi flabbergasted and Sakura’s mouth parts open in surprise. Minato chuckles and closes her mouth with the back of his palm. He almost smirks at Kakashi, but instead presses a kiss to the side of her wrist, “You’re kind of amazing, you know that?”

Sakura snaps out of her stupor and raises a brow, “Kind of?”

Kakashi’s petty revenge on money expenditure had hit a wall, but at least he was shrewd to sit himself in between Minato and Sakura—to separate them like a spoiled child. He looks at his menu, the things he does for _love._

“When did you even heal Ran-san’s husband?” Minato asks curiously from across from her, Kakashi sits in between them, ignored, and overlooked.

“I think I was sixteen?” Sakura tries to think back to that day, “It was my first pulmonary healing session. Thankfully he wasn’t too far ahead in the disease so I was able to heal him without him having any side effects.”

“And she remembers that?” he replies with wide eyes, “It’s been what? Almost six years?”

She shrugs, “It’s her husband and he was sick. I think she would remember if he was in the hospital for a while.”

Minato rolls his eyes, “You know that’s not what I mean.”

Sakura huffs a breath and turns to look at Kakashi, “Free food, sensei. It’s your favorite.”

Kakashi shoots her a fake smile.

When Minato flinches, the Rokudaime pretends that he can’t see, that he can’t _hear_ , because he sees Sakura’s leg move from under the table in his peripheral vision and the muscles in his sensei’s forearm tense up.

He’s poorly planned scheme for revenge backfires and all he wants to do is _disappear._

—

“It can’t believe it took us _months_ for us to get here,” Sakura groans and pushes against the metal door into the ROOT archives. “Why the hell is all your crap in the ROOT archive anyway?”

“Have you assigned anyone to clean out the archives since ROOT disbanded?” Minato asks suddenly, fingers already swiping the dust that settles onto the pink of her hair.

“…no,”

He barks a laugh of amusement and presses his lips to the corner of her mouth, “Self-explanatory, then?”

She elbows him in the gut and presses her fingers to the latch, “A little bit of yin chakra should release it and—”

“—lightning,” Minato adds in helpfully, his fingers brush over hers as they tug on the iron lock, “Focus—yeah, right under the latch.”

It clicks.

“You can summon lightning ninjutsu without using hand-seals?” Sakura looks over at his fingers curiously, the blunt fingernail snapping with a trickle of faint blue static.

“Chakra,” he corrects her lightly and they pry the door open, “It’s not really ninjutsu. Remember I have an affinity for lightning ninjutsu so I don’t really need to use hand-seals unless it’s like a real technique, and by real I mean a ranked-technique.”

“So you can just what? Pull it out of thin air?” she frowns and turns on the switch for the stairs.

“Basically,” Minato nods and tucks her arm into his as they walk down the stairs, “It’s a very basic move, I don’t really have to think about it. The only thing I can really compare it to is how you manage to pull chakra to any part of your body. Seamlessly. You heal on instinct, not on demand. It’s the same thing with my chakra.”

“I’ve never heard of that before,” Sakura says thoughtfully and she takes the last step down the stairs, “Can you start a fire with the snap of your fingers?”

He rolls ocean eyes and lifts her from the last step, “It’s _lightning_ , not fire.”

“Theoretically,” she can’t help the giggle that escapes her when she wraps her legs around his waist, “Lightning _can_ cause a fire.”

“That’s _if_ it’s hot enough,” his hands cup the back of her thighs and presses his mouth against her collarbone.

“Something to experiment on later?” she muses and then looks around the archive, “Is there a reason you’re carrying me?”

“I vividly remember screaming in horror when a tiny little animal breached the Hokage’s bathroom window and tried—”

“—it was a fucking _rat,_ it deserved to be screamed at!” Sakura scowls thunderously and waves her fist, “And you picked it _up_ and put it outside! With your bare hands! Do you _know_ how many diseases rats carry?”

“The animal didn’t deserve to die,” Minato replies unaffectedly and walks down the hall, “Maybe it just wanted a shower.”

She snakes a hand up his neck to weave fingers in his hair and then she tugs. Sakura punctuates each word sharply, “What if it was a _summon_?”

He narrows his ocean eyes abruptly.

“That’s what I thought,” Sakura sniffs haughtily and squeals when he squeezes her bottom in retaliation, “Fucking _caveman_.”

Minato bites her throat in retaliation as she squeaks at the nip and accuses her, “You _like_ when I’m a caveman.”

She laughs, “You’re not wrong, but you’re not right either.”

He chuckles too and puts her down when they reach the last office on the left, “Do we need another chakra print to get in?”

Sakura looks at the door with surprise, wiggles the handle and pushes the door, “No, but it _is_ locked—”

—she breaks the door open.

“But it’s fine, you can just break the door open I guess,” Minato deadpans and grabs the door from her hands to put against the wall.

“It’s more effective,” she huffs.

“The word is _destructive_ ,”

Sakura rolls her eyes and feasts her eyes on the wall full of filing drawers. On the right side of the archives, there are lockers, some big as closets and she can only assume that those closets are set aside for the Hokage or other high-ranking officials, “I think you’re the only Hokage whose belongings are in ROOT.”

“My notes were in the Kage’s archive, but regarding how classified my missions and most of my life was, especially with Kushina, they had to suppress how much information they released after my death,” Minato considers thoughtfully and then uses air quotes, “I believe the word you used before was a _myth._ ”

She gives him a dry look, “Yeah, but keeping some of your things in the Kage archives and the rest in the ROOT archives is so _shady._ ”

“Sakura, we are literally _in_ ROOT.”

Logistics and exasperation aside, Sakura is very curious to know what of Minato’s belonging remained, after what? Twenty years? She shakes her head internally at the math, it’s best not think about how long the man was stuck in the summoning realm and the fact that he was stagnant for so long. She wonders if he had ever felt the effects of time or maybe he was simply asleep?

“Yondaime Namikaze Minato,” Minato announces in front of his locker, his fingers brush over the black kanji embedded on the gray metal. Sakura wraps her arms around his waist and rests her against the side of his bicep.

“Need a minute?”

He shakes his head.

Sakura presses a kiss to his shoulder and he squeezes the hands on his waist. Minato then tucks a finger under the latch and pulls.

Minato’s Hokage robes stare straight at him and he smiles with nostalgia, “It’s been a while since I’ve seen this.”

She gapes at him in shock, “Is that _raw_ Suna silk?”

He grins and removes the haori from the hook, “We really are the same person.”

Sakura laughs and steps back when he makes a move to shake out the dust from his haori. Then he holds it up in front of him and wraps it around her shoulders. She slips into it and the edges of the sleeves meet her wrists. She stumbles when she spins, the bottom catching onto the rough flooring, and points to her back, “Wrong numbered Hokage, but how does it look?”

“You’re so cute,” Minato grins again, stupidly this time, and kisses her swiftly and fiercely. He murmurs against her lips, “You look like a toddler.”

“I _will_ hit you,” she warns him and tosses his haori back at him, “And I am _not_ cute!”

In the locker, there are some old pieces of clothes, legal documents, like Minato’s birth certificate, his wedding license, his mission documents, bank accounts, financial records, and a chest full of his parents' files. The edges of the scrolls are outdated, rice paper, blackberry ink, and aged at the edges. There are some clothes that have been shoved somewhere in the back of a shoebox and—

“—the cookbook!” Sakura exclaims with glee and holds the book above her head like it would solve all her problems. It’s a hardcover, purple-colored book, one with spirals and swirls of what looks like a child’s handwriting. She blinks at the small little caricatures, the small little animal prints, and squiggly lines and inquires slowly, “Are—did you draw these?”

Minato flushes faintly, the tips of his ears burn a baby pink and he takes a seat next to her on the floor. Backs against the locker and looks at the book. He confesses, “I was _five._ ”

“It’s _so_ cute,” her heart squeezes and traces over the crooked lines, “What is it? A tiger? A lion?”

“A lion,” he laughs shakily and glances at the small animals, “My kaa-chan took me to a zoo one day and I really like the mane? The hair on the lion.”

“It’s adorable,” Sakura giggles and presses against a poorly drawn elephant. She can see it, a boy with blonde hair, green eyes, maybe he’ll have Minato’s coloring, and not her forehead. Maybe he’ll have his nose, her chin, his dimples, and hands like hers. Small but strong, maybe he’ll be as tall as Minato and draw just like him.

She wonders if he sees it too.

“I wonder if the butter cookie recipe is in there,” Minato’s eyes light up with anticipation and she can’t help but press a kiss underneath his chin.

Sakura opens the book and an envelope slides into her lap.

The Yondaime picks it up and comments lightly, “Well that wasn’t suspicious.”

“Are you going to leave me in suspense?” she glares at him.

Minato opens the letter.

—

_If you’re reading this letter, Minato, it means you’re not dead. Congrats! Which also means you probably have no idea what’s going on. That’s fine, my pupil. If you’re reading this, then that means I am also dead. Allow me to explain. Kushina-chan rewrote the fūinjutsu coding on the scroll._

_In the event that she dies or doesn’t live to see the birth of your child, you would live to keep the Kyuubi at bay. Hence, the lack of the second summoning seal. Which, basically meant that you don’t have anything to pull you back in the scroll._

_I had to tell the Sarutobi-sensei, which in turn he told the Elders. The only person who didn’t know about the new formula was you. An insurance policy if you will. The Elders have a safe with all the documents you need to convict them; I’m sure you’re looking for them._

_Enclosed is a map._

_—Your favorite sensei, Jiraiya_

**Author's Note:**

> please drop a review on your way out.


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